Education of a Soul
by staceycj
Summary: Dean has three weeks left and a solution has been found, however, it is dangerous, risky and above all will teach Sam and Dean more than they ever dreamed possible. Season 3 No spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

"Hey Dean." Bobby started.

"Hey Bobby, what's up? Got a lead on a demon we need to send back to hell?" Dean asked with a laugh. Albeit the laugh was nervous.

Pretty soon Dean was going to be in the same place he was sending all of these demons. He wasn't sure what scared him more, leaving Sam alone, being alone in hell, or being alone in hell surrounded by demons that he had personally sent back there. Those demons weren't going offer him a beer and ask him to pull up a chair and tell them what they had missed since they had last been topside. Nope. More than likely they were or already had devised numerous ways to torture him. Ways that were probably inconceivable to the mere mortal.

Sometimes, he laid awake at nights trying to come up with all of the various things that the demons would or could do to him. One night, his imagination had conjured up images of demons coming at him, while he was chained to a wall, fastened so tightly that he wasn't even able to move enough to squirm, and with dull scissors the demons would cut off his fingers one by one, followed up with his arms being pulled until his skin ripped like a plastic bag that had been pulled to hard. The sounds that came with the images were just as bad if not worse than the actual images themselves. He had no idea that his imagination was nearly this vivid. The images kept coming unbidden and he had been unable to stop the horrors from coming to the forefront of his mind. The images had been so vivid and disturbing it had led to him throwing up the entire contents of his stomach and sitting on the floor of a dingy motel bathroom sweating. Sam had come in the bathroom, starred at him, asked if was okay, and Dean had replied that he had drank too much. Both of them had pretended to forget that Dean hadn't had a drop of alcohol all night.

Now, with his time on Earth limited to three weeks, 2 days and 12 hours, he found himself in an almost perpetual state of anxiety. He had all but given up food because every time he ate his stomach rejected it. He managed to eat just enough for Sam not to be to suspicious. But Sam wasn't eating much of anything lately either.

Dean watched Sam sit at the computer, day in and day out, frantically trying to find some way to save his brother and all Dean could think was, 'I have so many things to tell you, to teach you. I don't have time! Why did I waste so much time? Why didn't I call you at school and tell you these things? Why didn't I make the effort?' But neither made the effort to say the things that needed said. They just said the necessary things, they just talked about hunts and dinner and the things that they always talked about. In it's own way it was hell.

Dean sincerely hoped that Bobby wasn't calling with a hunt. He didn't want to hunt anything anymore. He wanted to stay with Sam and just have the opportunity to sit around with his brother and watch crap TV, eat crap food that neither of them would be able to keep down, and listen to his brother's quiet breathing as he slept in the bed on the other side of the room.

"No, Dean. I don't have any kind of lead for you. I was just wonderin' if…well…" Bobby was having more trouble saying this than he thought he would. He took a breath and tried again. "I was just wonderin' if you and Sam would consider stayin' here until you know…they come for you." Bobby closed his eyes after he said the end of that sentence. The thoughts of anything coming after Dean and taking him away from them all just gave him the willies.

Dean, on his end, was taken aback. He figured he would spend his last days on earth with Sam in a crappy hotel room. The thought that anyone would want him around, besides Sam, had never really and truly crossed his mind. It made sense, Bobby was like a second father to them, but Dean had become so used to being ignored by father figures that he didn't think about Bobby wanting to spend time with him before he was sent to Hell.

"Bobby, you sure? I mean, you don't want to watch that." Dean said softly.

"No I don't. But, son, I would like to have you here. I want you here. I don't want you to be alone."

"I have Sam." Dean had no idea why he was trying to talk Bobby out of the invitation.

"Sam will need someone when you are gone." Bobby said quietly. The comment Sam made last year, God was it really a year ago, about his selfishness came to the forefront of his mind. He had claimed he was entitled to it. He was entitled to a bout of selfishness from time to time, but selfish in the sense that he used the last of the soap without telling Sam, or eating the last of the cereal, or using the last of the hot water, or spending his money on a beer instead of cough syrup. Dean had taken his brother out of Stanford, where he had made friends and had a support system, made him follow him all over God's green Earth and isolated him to the point where Sam's only friend was Dean and now Dean was going to take that away from Sam. He swallowed hard. Selfish didn't even begin to describe what he was. The least he could do for Sam was to go to Bobby's and allow Sam the comfort of another person when he was taken by the Hell hounds.

"Okay. We'll pack up today and be there sometime tomorrow. I'll call when we are close."

"Thanks Dean."

"Why are you thanking me? I owe you."

"It is an honor to get to be with you in your last moments." Dean suppressed tears and tried desperately to find a smart ass comment to come back with. This conversation suddenly became way too heavy for him.

"See you tomorrow Bobby.'

"See you then Dean." Dean hung up before Bobby did. Bobby thanked God that using Sam would work. Bobby sighed and dialed his phone.

"Noah, It's set up, they'll be here."

**Thank you guys for reading this chapter. Please review. It lets me know what I'm doing right…and what I can do better!**


	2. Drugged

**Author's Note: I hope you all like this chapter. It's a connector chapter. It is needed to get to the next part. Enjoy! Please review.**

Sam turned from the computer and looked at Dean with confusion. "You have Sam for what?"

"Bobby wants us to spend the next couple of weeks with him." He answered without answering the question.

"Oh." Sam understood the implication that Bobby wanted to spend the last weeks of Dean's life with him. Honestly, Sam felt that was a good idea. He didn't want to be alone when the Hell hounds came and left Sam with his brother's cold dead body. Sam had been wondering exactly how he was going to handle that. What do you do after your brother has been ripped to shreds and his big eyes that are usually filled with him, with the man that is Dean Winchester, are suddenly empty and devoid of anything but color, and unfortunately, Sam knew enough that the color wouldn't stay much after the soul left anyway. Sam nodded.

"Yeah. That sounds like a good idea. I want to peruse Bobby's library anyway. I think he has a book that I need."

Dean knew that was a lie. Well maybe not a complete lie, but he knew that his brother wanted someone around when he died. Sometimes, though, Dean wished that Sam would just say what he needed to say despite Dean's insistence on adhering to the "No chick flick moment" rule. Why did Sam stick to that so fervently NOW of all times? All of his life, Sam had pushed and pushed at Dean to talk about his feelings, and now when Dean needed to the most Sam didn't push.

Sam went back to his computer and shut it off and began packing his things. Dean watched his little brother for a moment and wished he knew what EXACTLY was going on in his head. He had a general vague idea, but just once he wished he was inside his head and could hear the thoughts that passed through that freaky brain of his.

They had always functioned pretty much as one unit. All of their lives it had been Sam and Dean and then Sammy left him and then it was Dean, where's Sam? Oh at Stanford? You must be proud. Then the look that indicated that people weren't sure if he could make it on his own. Those four years were the biggest mystery of Dean's life. He wanted to know every second that had held his brother's attention at the school. Sure he knew things. He knew Sammy's schedule every single semester, he had managed to get that information sent to the post office box he kept in Missouri. He had even followed Sam to classes once or twice when he had gone to Stanford to check on him. It had bothered him that Sam hadn't realized that someone was following him. He had trained him better than that.

Dean sighed as he rolled up his jeans and threw them into his bag. To be honest, this whole last year, Dean hadn't been in tune with his brother. They hadn't finished a sentence for each other since Sam had returned to the land of the living, their connection; their understanding of one another seemed to be fundamentally broken. Dean wondered, as he zipped up his bag, if that was such a bad thing. It would hurt less wouldn't it? Sammy wouldn't be in as much pain if he wasn't as connected to Dean. Dean nodded to himself. Yes, that was the best thing in the world for Sammy.

Sam watched Dean out of the corner of his eye as his brother packed his bag. His brother had never been a mystery to him. Dean had always been pretty straight forward. The man treated feelings in pretty much the same way he treated anything supernatural, he wanted them vanquished, salted and burned. That was not something that should come as a surprise to anyone who knew the 28 year old Winchester. However, Sam had always known the emotions that were locked up in that brain of his. Always had known when Dean was hurting or when he was sad, but this past year, Dean had found a special "No Sammy Allowed" box and had locked his emotions up in there. The bond that they had always had seemed to be lost or broken. Sam missed his brother, and he wasn't even gone yet.

The trip to Bobby's was uneventful and Dean had driven clean through the night. They were greeted with open arms by Bobby and his dogs when they arrived the next evening and Bobby ushered them inside. Bobby had chili on the table for them, and Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. Dean was definitely going to stink him out of the room tonight. Well, that's to say if he even manages to eat and keep down more than a few bites. Dean thought he was being smooth and that Sam didn't know that just about everything he ate came back up.

The three sat down to dinner and Sam excused himself and went to the restroom, he hated to admit it but he hadn't exactly been eating either and the sight of Bobby's chili didn't do much to help his stomach.

"How are you Dean?" Bobby asked when Sam left the room. Dean put his spoon down and sighed. He ran a hand down his face and he let out an ironic chuckle.

"As well as can be expected. I'm more worried about Sam than myself."

"He's a big boy Dean."

"I know he is. I've told him as much as well. I'm going to miss him."

"He's going to miss you too."

"I just feel like we aren't as close as we were."

"Maybe Sam is protecting himself."

"I hope he is. I would too. But I still miss him."

"He's right there Dean."

"I don't want…" Sam came back in the kitchen and Dean picked up his spoon again and took a big bite of the meal that he wasn't hungry for. He forced it down his stomach and then excused himself to the bathroom. His stomach was rolling. He was probably going to throw up for the tenth time this week. He was becoming worse than a bulimic on a binge.

Bobby watched Dean run to the bathroom and he became more resolved than ever to do what he had planned.

"He's not eating." Sam said with a sigh.

"Neither are you Sam." Sam gave a sad chuckle and played with the spoon in his bowl.

"I guess not. I eat enough to let Dean pretend that I'm eating and Dean eats enough for me to pretend that he is eating. Bobby, I miss him. Something is off between us. I have never been this disconnected from my brother."

"How is the progress coming on breaking the deal?" Sam looked up at him and then back down at the bowl.

"I don't want to talk about it." Dean came back to the room and took his place. He took a big gulp of his water and sighed. "I'm really beat Bobby. I'm going to go to bed."

"I'll help you clean up Bobby and then I'm right behind you Dean."

"Just go on to bed Sam. You need your sleep too." Sam nodded and followed his brother up the stairs and into the bedroom they would share for the remainder of Dean's life. The thought made him shudder. Dean looked at his brother and tilted his head; Sam tried to etch that look into his memory. He wanted to remember every single facial expression and look his brother gave.

"You okay dude?"

"Yeah. Just cold."

"Want one of my blankets?"

"Nah. I'm fine." Dean nodded and took off his jeans and settled back into the bed.

"Night Sam."

"Night Dean." Both wanted to say 'I love you' but couldn't force themselves to do so. Both actually fell asleep that night without much tossing and turning. Sleep had been like food, mostly pretended for the sake of the other, and not really occurring. Sam wondered, as he was drifting to sleep, if the reason he was so tired and so ready to sleep was because he felt safe in Bobby's house with Bobby downstairs. He decided that was it and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

Bobby waited until midnight before going up to their room and looking in on them. He tapped Sam's shoe and he didn't wake, he did the same with Dean and Dean stayed sleeping. Bobby hadn't counted on the boys throwing up most of what they ate and had worried that they hadn't gotten enough of the drug in their systems to keep them knocked out.

"Alright Noah, do your magic." A dark figure came from behind Bobby raised his arms and began the ritual. All Bobby could hear in his head was Sam saying, "I would do anything to save my brother."

"Please forgive me Sam." Bobby prayed.


	3. Sending Sam

**Author's note: I stopped where I did because it would have been a small book of a chapter if I wrote everything needed for this particular conversation.**

With the ritual complete, Noah patted Bobby's shoulder and said, "Three weeks and two days. That's all I did it for." Bobby ran a hand down his face and sighed.

"That should be enough time."

"I hope they don't get mad."

"Doesn't matter if they do. It' the only way to get Dean out of the deal."

"But Sam?"

"I'm pretty sure that he'll be alright with it."

"Pretty sure?"

"He always says he will do anything for his brother."

"You sure are testing that concept." Bobby sighed and sat down in the chair that he had positioned in front of the brother's beds.

"I know. I know. Thank you for doing it."

"I owed you and what I did doesn't even begin to pay you back Bobby." Noah said as he put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'll catch you later Bobby." Bobby nodded and the other man left him alone with the boys. He watched them sleep for hours. Contemplating everything from how wonderful it must be to have someone you are so comfortable and close with that you feel alone and separate when they aren't around. Bobby had been married, loved her with all of his heart, but he had learned to live without her. Dean had never learned how to survive without Sam, and despite Sam's time at Stanford, Bobby was fairly certain that Sam was only able to survive because he knew his big brother was just a phone call away and would be there in an instant to right any wrong in his life.

Bobby had definitely sensed the tension between the two. Neither were mad, that much he knew, but both were hurting and neither knew how to communicate their hurts. Dean was leaving and he didn't know how to say good bye and he didn't know how to tell Sam everything he needed to. Sam, on the other hand, was always so good at communication, but for some reason saying good bye was just something he couldn't do. Bobby suspected that it probably had something to do with the fact that when he said it, it would be like an admission of failure. It was admitting that there was NOTHING he could do to save his older brother and that he would have to live the rest of his life knowing that he had failed at the most important thing in his life and that he would be alone for the rest of his life.

Bobby sighed again and hoped that the solution he had found to this problem would work. He also hoped that it would reestablish the connection between the brothers, because in his mind, there was nothing more sacred than that bond. 

Dean's consciousness slowly swam to the surface of his tired brain. He felt more like someone had clubbed him viciously over the head rather than having partaken in a good nights sleep. It had been quite a while since he had fallen asleep so readily and he thought, no hoped, that he would actually wake up refreshed instead of feeling like a weight was sitting on his chest. Today, however, didn't seem to be any different than the past days. His chest hurt with tension and he felt scared the moment he woke, but something was off, terribly off. He wasn't one to get headaches. This one, boy was it a doozy.

"Dean?" Bobby asked from the corner of the room. Dean wondered why exactly Bobby was in the room. He always left the boys to sleep as late as they wanted or needed. Something must be wrong for him to be in the room this early. He forced himself to rise up on the bed with his forearms supporting his weight, which this morning seemed disproportionate. Man, did someone drug him with something?

"Yeah?" Dean realized that Sam must be up. He waited to see what Bobby said next.

"Are you okay?" Bobby asked tentatively.

"I'm going to hell in three weeks, I'm just peachy." Those were his words, that was his sentence, that was what was going through his head, that was what he wanted to say, but that was NOT his voice. He pulled his eyes open and looked to his right to check on Sam. To his right was the wall. He had gone to sleep the night before with the wall to his left and Sammy to his right. He turned frantically to the left and saw himself. He saw his hair and his face sleeping soundly on the pillow. Was he dead? He looked at Bobby and Bobby must have seen him because he was on the bed instantly touching his arm. Correction, the arm that he was touching wasn't his at all. If he had to guess it looked like Sam's arm.

"Dean listen to me."

"What the hell?" he asked with Sam's voice.

"I did something." Dean threw the covers off of his legs and stood. He was wobbly on his feet and reached out to the wall to steady himself.

"Dean. Wait. Don't." Bobby started. Dean took off as fast as he could for the bathroom. He threw the lights on and was startled to see Sam's startled expression starring back at him. He stumbled back a few steps until his back connected to with the wall. Bobby was there an instant later.

"Dean. Let me explain."

"What the hell did you do?" he demanded.

"This will fix the deal."

"What?" Dean asked incredulously.

"We need Sam awake for this conversation."

"NO! We don't need Sammy up for this conversation. You need to tell me right now Bobby."

"I want to send Sam to hell." Bobby said getting right to the point. Dean was rendered speechless.


	4. Homicidal Dean

**Author's Note: I apologize for leaving you guys where I did yesterday. I hope this chapter makes up for it. Enjoy!**

Dean felt static in his head, the same static he usually felt and heard when someone did something to REALLY piss him off.

"What the fuck?" he said in a rare outburst of profanity.

"Listen to me Dean." Bobby pleaded. This was not going as planned.

"Start talking or I will start ripping you limb from limb." Bobby retreated as Dean advanced on the smaller man.

"If we send Sam to hell then they can't send you."

"Sam does not deserve hell. That was my deal, my issue, not his. There is no eternal damnation for my brother." Dean continued to advance upon Bobby, slow and steady, like a cat preparing to pounce on a much small, much tastier, animal.

"It would break the deal."

"It isn't his deal."

"Let me talk Dean."

"You aren't saying anything that doesn't make me want to NOT kill you Bobby."

"If they mistake Sam for you and he goes to Hell we can summon the demon back and they would have to reinstate Sam, just as he was, because it wasn't the deal made, and since they screwed up the deal they have to let you live and let Sam live."

"That is unacceptable Bobby." Dean said in a cold low tone.

"But Dean it would save your life."

"Sam doesn't need to spend one minute suffering in hell for me. I am not worth that. Sam is my brother. It is my responsibility to keep him safe."

"But you won't be able to protect Sam when you are in hell." Bobby knew that was a low blow, and he was skating on pretty thin ice as it was. He would be lucky to get out of this conversation with out being beaten to a bloody pulp. Dean was strong in his own body, but with Sam's he had more height and more weight to back up those punches. Bobby could end up dead if Dean was mad enough.

"Is that why I look like Sam?" Sam's voice had never been especially low, even when he was angry, however Dean's low, rumbling, threatening, growl had invaded Sam's usually even voice. Bobby suddenly wondered just how much of Dean would be impressed upon Sam and how much of Sam would be impressed upon Dean. If he survived this conversation with Dean he would have to observe them and find out.

"You don't look like Sam, you are Sam."

"What?"

"I had a hoodoo priest switch your souls." That caused Dean to stumble backward a step as if he had been slapped.

"You took my soul out of my body and put it into Sammy's?" Bobby was about to confirm it when the pieces of the puzzle came together in Dean's mind. "You mean to tell me, that since I'm in Sammy's body that there would be no way the Demon would know that I wasn't me. That is the way you are going to get the Demon to take Sammy instead of me."

"Yeah that is the plan. But in order for it to work, you two need to learn how to be each other."

"Bobby, I thought…" Dean felt betrayed. He felt more than betrayed. He felt like he had been used, deceived and he vaguely had a memory of a lab rat at Stanford. Oh God. He hadn't been to Stanford. That was one of Sammy's memories. Now he was violating his brother. These were his memories not his. "Bobby switch us back. NOW!" Dean demanded.

"I can't." Bobby said slowly.

"What the hell?" 

"It will last for three weeks and two days." Dean felt the fear ripple all of the way down Sam's body.

"Right through the deal."

"Yeah." Dean was rendered speechless for a few moments.

"I don't know if I can ever forgive you for this Bobby."

"If it works Dean, I don't care if you never speak to me again." Dean's eyes blurred. He felt nauseous and he had an overwhelming desire to sit down. This was unacceptable. Sammy didn't deserve this. It was bad enough that he was about to force Sam to be alone for the rest of his life, which was something that Dean feared and he assumed that his brother would fear as well and he vaguely wondered if the demon would use that fear and make that his own personal hell. That thought had crossed his mind more than once. Another floater thought crossed his mind; Sam had worried about being left alone and what it would be like for Dean to be left alone, because despite all of his efforts to make it unnoticeable, Sam knew that abandonment was his greatest fear and with that realization Sammy's body flooded with shame as he remembered all of the times he had abandoned Dean. Dean pressed his hands against his eyes to stop the memories and the emotions that weren't his to have.

"This has to stop. I can't violate my brother this way. Some things are meant to be private." He said through gritted teeth.

"Dean?" He heard his own voice say groggily from the other room.

"Go to him Bobby." Dean commanded with enough force that Bobby was actually afraid not to follow the order. Bobby had never been afraid of Dean, thought of him as a cute kid, this new angry homicidal Dean truly scared him. Somewhere in the back of Bobby's mind he realized that he probably deserved this. "I can't freak him out like this." Dean whispered more to himself than to Bobby.

Bobby went into the room where he had left Sam. He entered the room and found Sam standing and looking into the mirror that was a part of the dresser set that Bobby's mother had given him and his wife when they were married.

"What have you done Bobby?" Sam asked with Dean's voice. Sam turned to face the older man, and Bobby was stunned at the change. Dean's face was always schooled into tight unreadable lines, and his large green eyes were hard and sad. This past year they had taken on a haunted quality that Bobby had wanted to take from them. With Sam inside, his eyes were soft, and his features readable. He was scared and disturbed. Bobby sighed and recounted the story. Instead of threats and anger he received a nod.

"Sounds reasonable to me." he took a deep breath. "I just wish that you had asked me first. Waking up with Dean's face isn't something I was ever prepared for."

"You're not mad?"

"I'm not thrilled with the whole thing, but it does sound like the most reasonable way to get him out of the deal. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because then you could die. Dean constructed the deal in a way that is damn near impossible to destroy."

"Tell me about it." He said with a slight roll of the big green eyes. "But that's my brother for you."

"Sammy?" Dean asked from the doorway. Sam turned his eyes to his brother and the sight of his own body, tight and rigid, haunted and unreadable unnerved him. He was looking at his brother; there was no doubt in his mind. It was like Dean was wearing a Sam mask.

"Yeah Dean?" he asked.

"Are you creeped out?"

"Definitely. You?"

"A little." He looked away for a second and cleared his throat, a nervous gesture Sam had noticed Dean had developed in the last couple of years. "Sammy. I can…" he paused trying not to say what he was about to say. "I can remember things that I've never seen. Never done. Never felt. I just want you to know…I'm not…"

"It's going to happen I'm afraid." Sam said. "I've caught a couple things too."

"Sammy, I didn't want this."

"I didn't want you to make the deal. Sometimes we have to deal with crap we don't want to." 

"Sammy I don't want you in hell."

"Dean, I don't want you in hell."

"But."

"This is the most feasible solution."

"You're okay with this?"

"If it will save you, I'm okay with it."

"Sammy I'm not that important."

"I know you think that. Hell, I am seeing why you believe that right now."

"What?"

"Dad screaming at you after a fight that Dad and I had. You started tuning out right after he said it was your fault that I left, and that if you had raised me better that I wouldn't have left." Dean looked away from his brother. Sam shook his head. "Damn Dean, he did a number to you." Dean was incredibly uncomfortable with Sam learning his deepest darkest things.

"Dean, you are going to learn a lot about me in the next three weeks. Know that I'm not mad."

"I.."

"Dean…stop. Bobby did this to save you. I don't like how he went about it…but it will work. Just let it go."

"Sam…"

"Dean…I'm too tired to argue about this right now." Sam sighed and pushed away from the dresser. "I'm going to catch a shower." Dean watched his body go towards the bathroom, he had no witty sarcastic remark about treating his handsome body with respect, all he could think was that Sam was getting the short end of the stick.


	5. Living as Dean

Sam disrobed his brother's body and it felt vaguely obscene. He hadn't seen Dean naked since they stopped taking baths together and that had been a very, very long time ago. A fragment of a memory fluttered against his consciousness. He was watching himself, Sam, throwing water in the bath tub. His chubby cheeks grinning, baby teeth, the few that he had bursting through the gums, and little chubby arms splashing the water at his big brother. Dean's heart hurt at the memory. Sam tried to focus on the memory and figure out why it made Dean hurt. Such a simple and happy memory shouldn't hurt anyone. It should make Dean feel warm and fuzzy if nothing else. Sam sighed and wondered if his brother ever felt warm and fuzzy. Sam tried to push the memory to figure out the emotions that went with it and for the life of him he couldn't. It seemed that Dean had a lot of things locked away in his mind that he wouldn't even let himself into.

"How sad is that?" Sam asked the air. His big brother wouldn't even talk to himself about his feelings. Dean so needed mental help.

He reached up to take off his amulet and he felt the body stop him. Dean apparently never took it off and his body was trying to tell Sam not to remove it now. Sam sighed, cursed this weird situation, and stepped into the shower and allowed the hot water to pound over Dean's very tired body. As the water pounded over his flesh he wished that he was back at Stanford, in his nice safe life.

As soon as he thought of Stanford, it felt like he had been punched in the stomach. Sam closed his eyes and the flood of emotions that ran through him was astounding. Pride. Loneliness. Happiness. Fear. Rage. Jealousy. Sam was taken aback at the Jealousy. The images of wishing for a different life came to the forefront of this brain. Sam saw his brother going to college, or what Dean's daydreams imagined college to be, walking to a building with a backpack slung over his shoulders, a new pair of jeans on, a new and fresh shirt on, brand new boots—still their original color and lacking scuffs and scratches from demons and other supernatural creatures, and friends at his side, talking and laughing with him about something that didn't involve a supernatural creepy crawly. Dean envisioned himself entering this building and learning how to run a business, because in Dean's mind, he had gone to a vocational school for cars, and now he was just learning how to make a business work so he could open his own garage. Dean pictured himself happy and surrounded by people his own age who considered him a friend. The loneliness gnawed at Dean's stomach and Sam realized with sadness that his brother ate constantly because he was trying to fill up his stomach with something to make that gnawing feeling go away. When they got out of this mess, Sam decided that he would make an effort to say less about what and how much Dean ate. Dean was only trying to make himself feel better, and Sam shouldn't spend so much energy complaining about something as innocent as food, Dean could be filling that empty space with something dangerous like alcohol or drugs, but he wasn't. He was just filling himself with food.

Sam sighed and lathered Dean's short hair and suddenly wished he could do something for his brother, heal him in some way. However, Sam knew that the only way Dean could be rid of the lonely gnawing sensation was for Dean to actually be out in the world, not in the shadows and obscurity that hunting demons and other things that go bump in the night had forced him into, but to actually be out in the waking bright world and spending time with people who shared his passion for cars or classic rock. That would do him more good than any amount of food could ever do.

Sam hurried and washed the rest of his brother's body and got out of the shower. He ran the towel over his face and found himself starring at his brother's reflection. A wave of disgust hit him hard. Dean didn't like to look at himself. He didn't think he was worth anything and his reflection seemed to show him that. Sam was astonished by this revelation. Dean always seemed to have such a high opinion of his appearance. He always flirted with women and acted like he was God's gift to them. Sadly, Sam realized it was yet another coping mechanism his brother had come to use to cover up his insecurities.

Sam forced the body to stare at itself so he could find out what was going on in his brother's heart. He didn't like himself on the inside and because of that he didn't like how he looked on the outside. Dean saw every scar on his face. He saw the one right under his right eye that had been inflicted by an angry ghost in Atlanta. He saw the scar on his chin that had been caused by being flung across a factory and slamming into a piece of metal. However, those scars had nothing on the one on his forehead. Sam reached up and touched it and he felt the car crash again. He felt himself going unconscious and then nothing. He also remembered waking up and his father telling him that he was going to have to kill Sam if he couldn't save him. That thought brought on a wave of nausea when he realized that he wouldn't be there to protect Sam when he went to hell. Every single muscle in his body went tense and rigid.

"My God Dean." Sam whispered to the reflection. "How can you live like this?"


	6. Living as Sam

Chapter 6

Dean heard the water start and he sighed. Bobby had long since left him to his own devices. Dean was fairly certain that Bobby was worried that he might haul off and deck him, and with Sam's gargantuan body and his know how that might hurt a little.

Dean felt so awkward in his brother's body. The floor was much farther from him than he was used to and he had a hard time catching his balance. He wondered if that was because he was in a foreign body or if it was because Sam was working on an inner ear infection. Without even thinking he started to worry about Sammy being sick, and that worry led him to worry even more about leaving Sam alone when he went to hell.

The thought, "I can take care of myself." Passed through the brain he was occupying. Startled, he stood ram rod straight. Sam had always said that he didn't need Dean to worry over every single little detail and Dean had always thought that Sam just said that to get Dean to look the other way.

Sammy had been through so much that he felt like he had to hover and make sure that everything was alright, because if he didn't then who would be there when Sam had a nightmare, or when he had a vision and was almost crippled because of the blinding pain that went through his brother when the visions struck. A memory flashed in him of just how painful those visions actually were. Dean winced at the memoric pain. Dean had assumed that they hand hurt like a bitch, but if the memory of the pain was any indication than the headaches had been far worse than he had ever imagined.

That stupid yellow eyed demon had hurt his family… Dean stopped the thought when he heard "demon blood" echo through his brother's head. What did demon blood have to do with anything? Dean wondered. As soon as Dean pushed at the memory he was flooded with visual information. Dean had known that the yellow eyed demon had come to his brother in a dream while he was at the haunted cowboy camp, Sam had told him as much before, but now the information that the demon had infused Sammy with demon blood and that their mother had known the demon flashed in Technicolor through Sam's brain. Sudden and blinding anger rushed through Dean. Sam had known more about the situation than he had told him. Blind rage consumed him and he suddenly had the desire to punch something very hard. However, Sam's body resisted that urge. Sam's body indicated that the proper way to handle this particular type of stress was to go outside and walk. Images of Jessica saying "Come on Sam, after a walk it won't seem so bad" and taking him by the hand and walking with him, talking with him, outside and stopping every so often to kiss and to watch a bird nesting or a particularly funny looking cat stroll by, lazily drifted through his mind replacing the memory of the yellow eyed demon.

The memory of Jessica filled Sam with such love and longing that it almost made Dean sad, it definitely made him jealous, but he had always been jealous that Sam had had someone like Jessica in his life. Jessica's face seemed to linger in Sam's thoughts more than anything else, and Dean couldn't blame him, she was beautiful.

Dean decided to allow Sam's body to do what it did best to cool off, so he quickly dressed and pulled on the boats that Sam considered shoes and started off outside. For the first time in Dean's life he didn't seek the comfort in a strange woman's embrace or in the Impala, he walked. Sam's body seemed to be made for walking long distances and he allowed it to take all of the time it needed to cool off. He had walked for quite a while before he realized that it was his soul that was agitating Sam's body. He stopped, took a deep breath and forced himself to reexamine the memory that he had seen earlier. Something told him that if he understood and analyzed the problem the feelings would go away. Dean figured that must be wacky college logic, but decided to give it a try just the same.

The memory came back and he watched as that damn demon dripped blood into his brother's mouth, probably to make him the demon army's leader, but that still didn't explain how the demon had known his mother. Why would their mother have any dealings with the likes of that son of a bitch? Better yet, why wouldn't Sammy tell him about it? He had told Sammy what their father had said to him before he died. Why didn't Sam feel the need to tell him this?

"Dean doesn't need this to worry about this too. I'll figure it out and present the information to Dean complete with a solution. That will make the most sense. I need to make sense of this. Dean doesn't need this burden."

Dean heard the thought, considered it, and tossed it aside. He didn't care what the reason was; Sam had no right to keep it from him. It was about their mother. Dean had known their mother and had loved her, if anything; he deserved the information more than Sam did. Jealousy sparked in Dean's breast. If he had to admit it, he was jealous that the demon had wanted his little brother and not him. Why was that anyway? He tried to think back to all of the children that were like Sam and he realized that most of them were only children or they were a twin. Sam was the only one that they knew of, that had an older sibling. Maybe Dean had just been born in the wrong year—or the right year, depending on whom you ask. And with the memory of how painful the visions were he decided that he was glad it wasn't him who had had to suffer all of those migraines.

Dean sighed and decided that he had walked far enough and that he probably should head back, Sam would probably worry about his body, and wonder what exactly Dean was doing with it. The vague notion that Sam thought that Dean would get his hair cut super short and make sure to get a tattoo of something vaguely obscene tattooed to his arm went through Sam's brain. Dean laughed. Sam would think that.

**memoric is not a word and I know that. It was just the closest word that I could come up with to work with the sentence. **


	7. Demon Blood

**Author's Note: I want to thank all of those who have reviewed my story thus far. I hope you enjoy this chapter and see fit to review. Thank you!!**

Chapter 7

Bobby's had always been a safe place for Dean, and Sam was starting to realize just how safe Dean felt around the older man. Dean's body relaxed when Bobby was around, it was like Dean didn't have to worry about anything, Bobby would take care of the problems if there was one, he was older and wiser and Dean wouldn't have to shoulder the entire burden.

Sam had even heard the thought "Bobby will keep Sammy safe" flutter across the forefront of Dean's brain. Sam leaned Dean's frame against Bobby's kitchen counter and sighed to himself. Dean's thoughts seemed to be a broken record, "Keep Sammy safe" "Make sure Sammy is happy" "It is your job to take care of Sammy, you screwed it up once, you can't do it again". Sam wondered why his brother wasn't exhausted all of the time. God knows if he had to listen to this mantra over and over again for the last 28 years he would have gone postal by now.

He crossed Dean's legs and took a sip of the coffee he had poured. He watched Bobby with a critical eye. Dean seemed to look at Bobby as a father figure, and he realized that he was one of like three people in the whole world that Dean trusted.

Sam watched as Bobby made the pancakes that Dean loved; chocolate chip with syrup and whipped cream. Just the thought of all of that sugar made Sam's cheeks hurt and his stomach roll. That much sugar had never appealed to Sam and he didn't especially like the idea of Dean putting that kind of food into his body, but it was only for three weeks, how much damage could he possibly do? Despite what Dean ate his body was in surprisingly good shape. All of that running from the monsters really kept him in shape and thin. Sam took another sip of the coffee and found that Bobby was looking at him.

"You okay Bobby?"

"You are creeping me out."

"What? You made us like this." Sam said with an edge of anger.

"It is just weird seeing you from inside Dean's eyes. I know it's an adjustment.."

"Adjustment is the understatement of the century Bobby." Bobby sighed and looked away from Sam.

Once he collected his wits again he asked, "Are you okay with this Sam, really? I know what you said to Dean, but…well. I don't want you mad at me."

"You really didn't give me much of a choice Bobby. Do I want to go to Hell? No way in the world do I want to go. But I don't want Dean to go more. I have said it before, I would go to the ends of the earth for my brother and I think this pretty much constitutes as the ends of the earth. I just wish you had told me before you did it."

"I couldn't."

"Why?"

"Because it violates Dean's deal and you would have dropped dead."

"What?"

"Think about it. You would be violating the "welching or weaseling" portion of the deal. You would have dropped dead."

"I am fairly certain that that clause only applies to Dean." Sam took another sip of the coffee.

"I'm not too sure about that Sam. The demons and such tend to look at you and your brother as a single unit."

"I never thought of that." Bobby continued to cook and tried to figure out a way to ask what he wanted to know. He finally decided that the best way to do it would be to just be blunt.

"How does it feel to be inside him?"

"How does it feel?" Sam repeated and sighed. He tried to find the words. "Weird." He said with a laugh.

"He sounds different."

"What?"

"I can tell you aren't Dean because of how he sounds. His voice is usually a little more gruff and gravely."

"Huh." Sam said curiously.

"You boys are going to have to learn how to be one another." 

"I can act like Dean." Sam laughed. "Eat everything in my path, have sex with every woman that crosses my path, and kill lots of 'evil sons of bitches.'" Sam said the last with a deepened voice and Bobby laughed.

"You still didn't sound like him."

"It shouldn't be too hard to master that."

"It may be more difficult than you think. There is a lot more to being Dean than having a gravely voice. There is a lot more to him than you seem to think."

"Bobby, I get the feeling that you did this for more than one reason. I think the main reason is to save Dean but I think you wanted me to learn what went though his head."

"I wanted him to know what went through yours as well."

"It's a dark place up here."

"I'm sure it is. He is full of-"

"Self-loathing." Bobby nodded. "Why do you think that is?"

"Got me. I was hoping that your self-esteem would rub off on him."

"I don't think there is enough self-esteem in any one person that would effectively rub off onto my brother and make any significant change."

"I don't know about that Sammy." The screen door opened and slammed shut. "Dean that you?" Bobby asked.

"It's me Bobby." Dean chuckled a little. "Well as much me as can be in Sam's big Sasquach body." Dean entered the kitchen and he locked eyes with Sam for a moment and then turned to look at what Bobby was fixing.

"You are making my favorite." He said and sat down at the table.

"Least I could do." Bobby mumbled and put the pancakes in front of Dean. Sam sat across from his brother and Bobby put a bowl of oatmeal in front of him. Dean tucked into the pancakes and shoveled them into his mouth without heed to politeness. Dean expected the different kinds of sweet to melt in his mouth and warm his stomach and fill him up, but instead he felt the sugar in his mouth and it tasted wrong. The chocolate chips were bitter and the syrup way too sugary and the whip cream made him want to hurl. Disgusted, he pushed the pancakes away from him and Sam gave him a strange look.

"Something wrong?"

"Your taste buds are broken." Sam laughed and put the oatmeal in his mouth expecting to enjoy the thick, warm breakfast food but instead it felt as if he had eaten paste. He pushed the oatmeal away from him and gave Dean a strange look.

"Do you think it's possible that our bodies dictate what we like to eat?"

"I don't know, you are the one with the college education."

"But at the moment I don't have access to it. I can, for whatever reason, tell you how to take apart a carburetor and how to put it back together, but I can't tell you anything else." Dean thought for a moment and realized that he couldn't come up with anything regarding his car. He couldn't tell you anything about the engine or anything. Panic flooded his mind.

"Your souls were switched. Souls do not have intelligence." Bobby said and sat down with the brothers. Dean relaxed a little and Sam tried not to look alarmed. Dean pulled the bowl of oatmeal to him and took bite.

"Well I'll be damned. This actually doesn't taste like paste." Sam gave him a weird look and then tried the pancakes.

"Wow. These are good." Sam said surprised. Bobby watched as each brother ate their breakfast. The two looked amazed that they actually liked what they were eating. After finishing breakfast, Dean sat back in his chair and looked pointedly at his brother. He decided that this was the perfect time to discuss the topic that had angered and frustrated him since he had began his walk earlier this morning.

"We need to discuss the significance of Demon Blood." Sam's face went pale.


	8. The Fight

Sam's thoughts raced. _Oh My God! He knows! _All the while Dean's mind was racing with questions.

"It's none of your business." Sam said defensively.

"None of my business?" Dean questioned forcefully. "You have demon blood running through this body! Oh God Sam!"

"That is precisely why I didn't tell you!" 

"What in the hell are you talking about?"

"You are acting like I'm a freak!"

"Hell Sammy! You were a freak long before I knew you had demon blood in you. That is not what I'm talking about and you know it!"

"Dean you seem to forget that I can hear what is going through your head as easily as you can hear things that I don't want you to know. And right now your mind is scared shitless. It is on overdrive wondering what is going on and if I am…" he paused and looked like he was listening to something. "Yellow eyes told you that I may not have come back 100 Sam? What? You believe him? What the hell…"

"You have been acting strange."

"What? Weird? How?"

"You don't hesitate. You just kill."

"Damn straight I just kill now!" Sam made Dean's body stand and lean forward against the table, palms spread. "Jake took my life and he took my brother's life too! Because of my hesitation, because of my…my weakness I died and now you are paying the price for my foolishness. I will kill any evil bastard without a second thought, and that doesn't make me different, it means that I have finally learned my lesson. How dare you think that I have become a thing?"

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to. You just thought it."

"You still haven't told me about this demon blood."

"Oh come on Dean, do I need to spell it out for you."

"I am not stupid."

"I never said that." Dean forced Sam's body to mirror the position that Sam's body had forced Dean's into and spat "You didn't have to. You just thought it." The brother's locked eyes. Anger radiated off of the both of them and it was almost suffocating to be around.

"Boys.." Bobby started

"Shut up." They both said without breaking eye contact.

"Start talking Sammy. Tell me about this demon blood." Sam hesitated and realized that there was no way he was going to get out of this conversation. He pushed away from the table, put his hand on his hip and rubbed at his eyes.

"I have no idea what it means. I'm sure you've puzzled that out by now." He paced slightly and sighed. "I don't know, I just know that I feel dirty down to my core. It does explain the visions and why they were tied to the yellow eyed demon. Otherwise, I have no idea what is going on. He wanted me to lead his demon army."

"You will not lead any demon army no matter what prize they tempt you with."

"I'm not going to do anything Dean."

"Oh yeah, I just heard you think that if you became the leader of the army that you could get me out of this deal. Hell Sammy, no one is worth that. Me especially. How could you not have told me about this?"

"You didn't tell me what Dad said."

"I did tell you. I told you and it about cost me everything. You bailed on me remember? You almost got killed by Gordon. Do you remember that? I sure as hell remember searching all over God's creation looking for your sorry ass." Sam watched as his own hazel eyes went cold and tired. "You didn't trust me."

"What?"

"You didn't trust me with the information. Thought I would do something stupid and get myself killed in the process." He chuffed. "Wow you really do have a low opinion of me. Why in the hell have you been trying to save me? If I am really that stupid and untrustworthy. Wow Sammy. I never knew."

"I never…"

"No you never said it. But it is all right here in your head."

"You don't understand."

Dean pounded his fists against the table. "What? I don't understand what is blatantly going through your head? I am not that stupid! I am not an ignorant pig. Just because I haven't been to college doesn't mean that I can't put two and two together! If you hadn't been so freaking rebellious or if I hadn't had to take care of you all of your life…maybe I would have been able to live out my dreams…."

"The garage." Dean stopped in the middle of his tirade.

"You know?"

"I saw one of your daydreams this morning." Dean swallowed.

"You had no right." He said in a low rumble. The gruff gravel that Bobby had told Sam earlier was missing from Dean's throat could now be found in Sam's and that sound held a threat in it that no gun could match.

Sam got mere inches from Dean's face and said, "You had no right to the information about the demon blood."

"I needed to know about that. You don't need to know my daydreams."

Sam sighed and realized that this fight was pointless. "Dean, we are going to learn crap that is going to make each other mad. We can't fight over every single thing. If we do…" he paused and tried to collect his thoughts. "If we fight then we will loose what time we have left." The fight oozed out of Dean as soon as his brother's words sunk in.

Dean nodded, "Yeah you're right." Dean swallowed and then said, "You saw mom?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah I saw mom and she knew the demon. I don't know what to make of it but all of the people that she knew back in Kansas have been systematically killed. You and I are the only two left, and if you…go…then I'm it. I think they are trying to isolate me." Panic surged through both bodies. "You knew that?" Sam asked Dean once he realized that Dean had come to the same conclusion some time ago.

"Yeah. I had some sort of clue. Sammy. We can't let-"

"That's why I did this." Bobby said after the pause stretched for too long. Both sets of eyes turned to him. "You both need to be intact for this war to be won. Have you two got this out of your system? You are acting like children." Both boys hung their heads for a moment. "Good. You guys need to spend the next three weeks learning how to be each other, down to the last nuance if we are to have any chance in hell of saving Dean. Now can we put this crap aside for a little while?" Sam nodded and Dean did the same.

"Sorry Sam."

"Sorry Dean." Bobby contained a laugh.

"I still think you should have told me about the demon blood and mom."

"Dean." Bobby said warningly.

"Sorry." Bobby shook his head and realized that he had more work ahead of him than he ever dreamed possible.

Please Review and let me know what you think!!


	9. Books and Cars

Chapter 9

The boys made a silent agreement to stay away from each other for the rest of the day. There was too much going through each mind that was fodder for arguments that weren't fair to either side. All the previous argument had succeeded in doing was making both of them angry and uncomfortable, so, instead, both of them spent most of the day just learning how to be comfortable in their new bodies. Dean decided that it took a lot more effort to keep this body upright than he had anticipated. He bumped into more walls and nearly fell more times than he cared to count. It was like going through puberty all over again.

When that particular thought flashed through Dean's mind Sam's reacted with an image of Sam as an awkward gangly teenager, who was all feet and legs. Dean remembered that Sam as well. He chuckled slightly before he realized that that very chuckle had caused Sam more pain than any teasing at school ever had. Sam had felt so uncomfortable in his rapidly growing body and Dean had laughed, while Dean hadn't meant it in a crewel or hurtful way, Sam had taken it as such.

The images of falling or tripping over his own feet, or not having clothes that fit him properly because Dad was always too involved in a hunt to notice that Sam had grown another couple of inches and his jeans were way too short flashed through Sam's mind in rapid succession. Dean felt ashamed suddenly that he hadn't noticed either. He was too busy trying to follow their father's orders and keep Sammy safe from bullies and supernatural entities. He had never concentrated on the reason behind the bullies or behind the sad look in his brother's eyes. He should have paid more attention. If he had paid more attention Sam would never have been humiliated.

Dean stood in the bedroom that the two were sharing and sighed. He was restless, and the only thing that Sam's body wanted to do was curl up in a chair and read. Hell that was never ever on Dean's to do list; however, he got the sense that if he sat down with a book from Sam's bag that he would be able to alleviate this restless feeling growing in the pit of this never hungry stomach.

Dean finally relented to the impulses of this body that he was taking out for a joyride, and went to Sam's duffel and began rummaging. He felt like he was invading his brother's privacy. He stopped when he realized what he had just thought.

"How could I invade his privacy any more than I already am?" He chuckled to himself. "I mean for God's sake, I am inside his head, listening to his innermost thoughts. How could ruffling through his bag be MORE invasive than that?" His hand closed around the book that he knew was at the bottom of the bag and sat down on the bed with the book clutched in his hand. Dean stopped and looked at the title Tuesday's With Morrie by Mitch Albom.

"Can't even read anything with action can you?" Sam's mind made the note that he dealt with too much action in a course of a day, and the guy at the used bookstore had said that it was a very good book, that it had even surprised the bookseller with how good it was. Dean sighed and opened the book. He was amazed at how easy it was to read and to be captivated in the story. Dean could never focus on a book. It required too much concentration. He vaguely remembered teachers mentioning things like ADD when he was a kid. Obviously Sam didn't suffer from the same problems. Dean sat back on his metaphorical ass and watched the story play out in Sam's mind.

While Dean enjoyed the book, Sam was in Bobby's living room, also restless, and trying to figure out what to do with himself. Dean couldn't stay focused on a book to save his life, Sam had tried to force Dean to sit down and read, but the words were just words, they didn't hold the same spark that they did for Sam. Every time Dean started going on the book, and Sam would get interested, Dean's attention would waver to the window and he would stare at the cars in the salvage yard. Sam felt the compulsion to ask Bobby what cars needed attention and to go out there and start work.

Sam's soul sighed and decided to relinquish his control and allow Dean's body to do what it wanted. He went to Bobby and Bobby eyed him wearily. Sam supposed after the argument this morning, he couldn't blame the older hunter.

"You okay Sam?"

"Well I'm about to ask you if there is a car I can work on…what does that tell you?"

"It tells me that there is hope for this to work."

"I don't want to Bobby."

"I'm sure you don't. But something tells me that Dean is restless."

"Yes, his body is very very restless. I tried to read but he just can't concentrate." Sam said frustrated. Bobby chuckled.

"Sam, just because your essence is in there, doesn't mean that you are going to be able to do the same things to relax that works for you. I have it on good authority that Dean is in your room reading the book that you had in your duffel."

Sam sighed out loud. "Crap. I wanted to read that book."

"You're mind will have it on file."

"But…I wanted to see it." Sam sighed. "I suppose I'll just reread it when I get back in my body."

"That would make sense."

"But apparently Dean would like for you to put him to work on a car." Bobby chuckled at the distraught expression on Dean's face.

"Don't look so upset."

"I don't want to be looking at the insides of cars for the next however long Bobby."

"But that is what gives your brother pleasure."

"I still don't have to like it."

"But you never know Sam."

"I know, open mind and all of that." Bobby gave a snort and stood.

"Come on. This way, there is an old Corvette that I've been waiting for Dean to look at." The mention of the Corvette sent a surge of excitement through Dean.

"What year?" he found himself asking.

"1969 Stingray." The excitement burning through Dean's body turned to giddiness at the notion that he would have his head under the hood of that one. Sam felt Dean want to run out to the salvage yard like a kid running down the stairs to see what Santa brought him. But he also felt his brother's iron clad self control slap into place and temper the giddiness.

Bobby directed him to the wreck that was barely recognizable as a car much less a Corvette and Dean's body took over. He popped the hood and Sam sat back as Dean assessed the majority of the damage and then he went for the tools and began to get to work. Sam marveled at the way Dean knew every inch of the car even though he had never been under its hood before this afternoon.

Sam had never appreciated sweating. He hated how it felt, smelled, and made his clothes stick to his body. As a matter of fact, Sam hated physical labor. Out of everything that came with hunting, the traveling, the transient lifestyle, the constant fear of being monster of the week's lunch, none of it bothered him half as much as digging a grave. It was boring, time consuming, and it made his muscles ach. Not to mention the sweat. Dean however, was happy with physical labor. It seemed to give him a sense of accomplishment. At the end of the day there would be a clear product of his labor. He could sit back with a beer and admire the work he had done. Dean was meant for work like this.

Dean worked on the car until dusk overcame the horizon and Dean couldn't see the parts clearly any longer. He pulled himself out from underneath the car, and wiped his hands on a cloth that he had found earlier in the afternoon, his skin was sunburned and he was dirty and Sam realized that his brother felt content and satisfied. His muscles ached and his back was full of kinks but he was happy. Sam, actually, enjoyed watching his brother work on the car, and he even learned a thing or two.

He forced Dean to go inside and clean up and get ready for bed. Once he went into the room he found Dean lying on his back with one arm under his head, the typical way that he slept, on the bed closest to the door.

"How was your day?" Dean asked Sam.

"Good. I learned a thing or two about cars." 

"Heard about the Corvette. God, I wished I could have been under that hood."

"I wish I could have read that book."

"I was good. I finished it. Or rather you finished it. It is much more entertaining to read when you read it. I can't concentrate on a book that long. ADD or something like that."

"I noticed. I enjoyed working on the car." Both brothers remained silent. Sam broke that silence. "Dean,"

"Hmm?" he said in a half state of sleep.

"You are going to have to sleep on your stomach."

"Why?"

"Because my back hurts if I sleep on it." Dean was just about to ask why when Sam's mind gave him the image of where the pain was located. It was where Jake stabbed him and the demon had reknitted the bone and spinal cord. Dean coaxed Sam's body onto his stomach and didn't say another word. The guilt paralyzed his mouth. He hadn't been able to save Sammy; end of story


	10. File: Sam's Death

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. Life kicked my butt this week. Enjoy!**

The second day of the bizarre situation proved to be just as interesting as the first. Bobby, instead of handing the boys their respective breakfasts, put each plate on the table and watched as the two looked at one another and gave their respective bodies the nourishment that it wanted instead of what the soul wanted.

"So I guess soul food isn't really soul food." Dean said as he eyed the oatmeal and fruit that was before him.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked as he shoved pecan pancakes into Dean's face.

"Well, if soul food is supposed to comfort the soul, then shouldn't I be stuffing pancakes into your face?" Sam confusion forced Dean's face into a scowl.

"You know. I didn't think of that," Sam said.

"Must be my brain not working." Sam chuffed at Dean's comment.

"No it seems to be working just fine, it just seems to concentrate on really odd things."

"Odd?"

"You are thinking about a car magazine that you read a couple of weeks ago."

"For the Stingray?"

"Yeah."

"Actually, that isn't odd for me, that is pretty much normal." Sam put the fork down and leaned back against the chair.

"So, from what I've gathered being locked up in this head of yours, you don't worry about the deal?"

"Oh I've worried about the deal. See file labeled 'Sam's death'." Sam didn't even have time to contemplate the cryptic response before the images of his body hanging limp in Dean's hands and Dean screaming his name, accompanied by the hollow emptiness in his stomach that made him want to retch. He set the fork down on the plate and covered his mouth for a second afraid that the desire to vomit would become a reality. The memory lasted but a second or two but the feeling left in the pit of his stomach made his mind recall the horror of that night and repeat it over and over again. Sam looked up at Dean who watched the oatmeal as it fell from the spoon in a sticky clump. Sam knew from his own experience with Dean, and was confirmed by the thoughts in Dean's head, that he was avoiding looking at his baby brother because he couldn't bare to face the terror and pain in his own eyes. It was a similar to the way he regarded himself in the mirror.

"Dean I had…"

"Well now you do."

"The deal…"

"Had to be made."

Sam was quiet for a while. For the first time in his life he felt completely and utterly alone. Even after Jess died, Sam knew there were people that would stand by him and help him through the difficult time. He knew Dean would take care of him, help him through the worst of it. Dean, however, had no kind of support system. People didn't stick around him long enough to figure out if he was a nice guy or not. He didn't have the friends Sam did, and when Sam died for that brief moment, Dean was completely alone, and he knew now that Dean had been slightly suicidal that night. Sam finally understood what Dean meant when he said that he couldn't live with Sam dead. Dean really believed that. In a way, Sam learned, that Dean valued his Sam's life over his own. Sam looked at his brother and found that his own hazel eyes were starring at him very intently, confidently. Dean meant what he said, and Sam finally understood. "I see that now." He finally said quietly.

"Glad you do."

"I'm sorry."

"No need to be."

"Yes there is. I've been…"

"Sammy. I don't want to talk about it."

"You need to talk about it."

"Then you go talk out my memories and feelings with Bobby. I'm going to go read. Bobby, thank you for breakfast." He wiped his mouth and left the room. Bobby took his place at the table.

"You okay Sam?"

"No. I've never felt like this before."

"Like what?"

"Empty, alone, without purpose, without reason for living." He looked up into the old man's eyes. "I can't live like this."

"Neither can Dean."

"But he always looks like…"

"Nothing ever bothers him?"

"Yeah."

Bobby shrugged. "We all get through life in different ways Sam."

"But focusing on me? That isn't a life! That isn't a life for my brother."

"You may not think so, but he does. It is the only thing he knows Sam. Without you to worry about, he is lost." 

"But Stanford…" As soon as he said it he caught flashes of phone calls with the admissions officer and covert theft of security footage checking on Sam. Also, he caught a quick flash of paying someone a ridiculous amount of money to hack into Stanford records for Sam's grades. Sam felt his eyes go wide. Amazement and shock weren't adequate adjectives to describe his current feelings. "He took care of me there too."

"He did."

He ran a hand down Dean's face. "Oh God."

Bobby nodded. "There isn't life for Dean without you."


	11. Books, Birthdays, and Cars

**Author's Note: This chapter was WAY longer than anticipated. I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks to Meggin Lane, she provided me with the inspiration to get busy writing for today. Thanks!!! Please read and review I like to know what people think!**

Dean finished the first book of his life, well technically he hadn't finished it, Sam had finished it and it was one of hundreds that Sam had finished. Dean's thought triggered Sam's mind to think about all of the books that he had read in his lifetime, and Dean found himself impressed with the sheer number of volumes that Sam had completed in his life when depression crashed over him like a wave and anger and frustration rode on that wave and crushed him with its impressive weight. Sam was angry that despite all of his intelligence and all of his reading that he couldn't find a stupid solution for this damn deal.

The deal seemed to be the only thing that Sam thought about, Dean realized, and that cut Dean to the quick. Out of all of the things that Dean had done for his brother, the only thing that Sam could think about was how stupid Dean had been to make that deal, how Sam should have been dead, not because he wanted death, like Dean had when his father had saved him, but because then he wouldn't be in this situation. Wouldn't be forced to find a way to save his brother from another bout of stupidness. Dean's soul felt choked. Was the only reason he was upset was because he was in this situation? Dean was just about to probe further when the answer came to Sam's mind.

Under all of Sam's anger and want, no need, to save Dean from the deal was fear. He was scared of being left alone. Once Sam had said that he had been looking up to Dean since he was four years old, and in all honesty Dean had the vague notion that that comment was nothing but crap, but here he was in Sam's head. Sam couldn't imagine life without Dean.

"Stanford? You didn't miss me too much while you were there. Never called, never thought about me probably." Dean mumbled as he stood from the chair and looked out the window. Sam's brain answered as if it were a computer designed to answer any question posed by its master. Yesterday, on his walk, he had been treated to Jessica encouraging Sam to go outside and walk with her to blow off steam, and now he was treated to the cause of that anger. It had been Sam's birthday and he had checked his cell phone a half dozen times before noon and there was no call from Dean.

"_Sam?" Jessica asked._

"_Hmm?" he asked trying to look like he wasn't checking his phone for the millionth time._

"_Expecting a phone call?"_

"_Nah."_

"_Then why are you checking your phone like every three seconds?"_

"_No reason."_

"_That's bull shit and you know it Sam. If we are going to make this relationship work then you need to talk to me." The beautiful blond sat down next to him and put a hand on his thigh._

"_I really thought he was going to call me this year."_

"_Dean?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Why?"  
_

"_Because I saw a couple of weeks ago."_

"_What?"  
_

"_He was following me to my classes."_

"_Why didn't you say something?"  
_

"_Because he didn't want me to see."_

"_I don't understand."_

"_You would have to know Dean to understand."_

_She chuckled. "I would love to know Dean. I would love to know about your family period. You never talk about them."_

"_It's kind of hard to talk about people who have abandoned you. Told you that you are never allowed to come back because you left for college."_

"_But, Dean followed you to your classes?"_

"_Dean raised me." Sam admitted more to Jessica in those three words than he had ever admitted to anyone. "He raised me, he even dropped out of school to raise me."_

"_Dropped out of school?"_

"_Well, he doesn't think I know that, but well."_

"_Where was your father?"_

"_Who the hell knows and I really don't care. He can fall into a ditch and die for all I care today." Anger surged through his body. Anger at a man who he thought loved him and would do anything in the world for him and couldn't simply pick up the phone and call and say 'Sammy, Happy Birthday! I'm proud of you kid.' _

"_Screw Dean too!" Sam added in an intense burst of anger. He stood and began to pace. "I mean, what kind of family doesn't even call you on your birthday? Huh? Would it be too hard to pick up the phone and call? I don't think so. I looked up to him all of my life Jess. I wanted to be just like him! I wanted to do what he did. I expected him to be proud of me when I got into Stanford, but no, he sat there and starred at me like I had three heads when I told him and Dad. Some support and love he gave me then."_

"_Come on Sam let's go for a walk and cool off." _

Dean was jerked out of the daydream by Bobby's call for dinner. The memory left him with a pain in his heard. Dean assumed it was because Jessica was no longer there to soothe Sam's heart but as Dean was turning to head into the kitchen, Sam's mind left him with "I shouldn't have been a stubborn ass and called him. I wasted so much time. So much time. Now here I am and I'm going to loose him."

Dean's soul was left stunned and amazed. The pain in Sammy's heart had nothing to do with Jessica it had everything to do with him. Sam's body let a tear flow freely down his face. Then the thought "Damn my stupid chick flick moments. Must look strong for Dean." Ran through his mind. Dean forced Sam's body to run a hand down his long face. Maybe Sam had just as many issues as he had. Maybe more.

Dean got to the table and found Sam washing his hands. "Working on the Corvette?" Dean asked. Sam nodded.

"God, is she as beautiful as I think she is?"

"It's a mess."

"How do you like working on a car?"

"It actually isn't too bad. You find it relaxing."

"You find reading relaxing."

"How was the book?"

"Pretty good. The first book I've ever finished." Bobby put a plate in front of each brother. "But then again, I think if I saw the picture show in my head like you do, complete with sound effects, I think I would like to read more. It's just hard for me to read. I can't concentrate." Dean said and took a bite of the carrots that he was fairly sure were going to make him gag. To his surprise he liked them. He not only liked them but he wanted more of them. "Sammy you really need to get better taste buds." Sam shook his head and tried to ignore his brother's comments.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

"I want you to know, that I wanted to call you on your 20th birthday. I tried. I couldn't get a hold of you. And then, well, Dad took my phone away from me." Sam put his fork down and looked at his brother.

"What?"

"Just think about your 20th birthday." Dean didn't want to share the memory out loud. He couldn't put into words the humiliation and pain he had experienced on that day. He didn't really want Sammy to see what had happened, he was afraid that it would make him look weak and even more insignificant than he already felt he was. He kept his eyes steady on the plate. He couldn't watch the emotions play across his face as he watched the moving picture show of memories.

Sam watched as Dean became suddenly interested in his meal and wondered what could have been so bad that it made Dean not want to look him directly in the eye. With that thought he slammed with the memory.

"_What are you doing Dean?" Dean remembered being just slightly frightened by his father. He had been drinking and from the looks of it, quite a lot._

"_I was trying…uh…to call for pizza." _

"_You need to quit eating so much, son. I can't have you fat and slow on hunts." John said and took a swig of whatever alcoholic substance was in the flask. The comment had stung Dean more than he would have liked. 'I'm not a girl. Being fat should not bother me.' he had thought._

"_Yes, Sir." Dean headed toward the bathroom._

"_Why are you dialing the phone on the way to the bathroom?"_

"_I guess I didn't realize I was sir."_

"_You were going to call Sammy."_

"_Umm…" John stood in a flash and took the phone out of Dean's hands and looked at the partial number on the screen. The phone was cracked against the side of Dean's head before he knew what was going on. _

"_When are you going to learn that he is dead to us?" John advanced on Dean, and Dean could feel the blood running down the side of his face where his father had hit him with the cell phone. "He chose to leave us. He chose this perfect life he is leading. You aren't to call him. That is an order."_

"_But Dad…" John backed Dean into a corner and grabbed him by the throat tight enough to make breathing difficult. _

"_Do you dare disobey an order Dean Winchester?"_

"_No sir."_

"_You are not to contact your brother." _

"_Yes sir." John let his eldest go, keeping the phone, he went to the chair he had been in before the burst of anger and continued to drink. Dean had sat in the corner most of the night waiting for him to pass out so he could move._

Startled, Sam forced himself out of Dean's memories. He looked at his brother who was eating his carrots with interest and enthusiasm. Sam swallowed and the feeling of choking still lingered.

"He hit you?" Sam asked quietly. Bobby looked at Dean.

"He hit you boy?"

"No big deal."

"Dean…I didn't know." Dean shrugged.

"I never really wanted you to know."

"Why?"

"Doesn't make me look very manly now does it?" He tried for humor.

"Dean. I'm sorry."

"Nothing for you to be sorry for Sammy. We all make choices in our lives, and that one was mine." Dean paused for a moment, put down his fork and looked his own eyes dead on. They were filled with Sammy, and Sammy was confused and hurt. "Do you at least understand a little more?" Dean asked.

"Yes. I definitely understand you better." Sam said quietly taking in the feelings and the echo of the memory that was still ricocheting across his mind like a ping pong ball on crack.

"Good. Then the embarrassment is worth it."

"What do you mean?"

"If you have to play me, you have to understand my insecurities and weaknesses. Because whether I like it or not, that is a big part of me."

"I am so sorry that…"

"What? That you left for Stanford? That you had Jessica for those years? That you didn't have to hunt? Sammy. Don't worry about it. You did what you had to. I'm glad you did. Makes you the geek boy research partner." He said trying for levity.

"No. I'm sorry that you were treated like an animal and not the man that you are."


	12. Because You Are My Brother

Chapter 12

Dean heard the words but had never associated that image with himself. Animal. That was a new accusation. He had always thought of himself as beneath others but he had never thought of himself as an animal. However, Sammy's words were truer than he wanted to admit.

Once Sam had left, their father had treated him like a pet that was tolerated only now that the child of the family had left the nest. He had drank excessively and used Dean as a punching bag both physically and emotionally. Their father had said things when he was drunk that made the demon possessed Dad look like a kitten. On more than one occasion he had been hit to the point of unconsciousness because he had said the wrong thing and or because he was too stupid and wasn't able to do research as fast as Sam had. Dean had learned his way around women's cosmetics because he couldn't go out of the hotel room looking like a victim of a violent beating and expect people to trust him enough to share the information that he had needed. Those were memories that he hoped Sammy wouldn't find. He couldn't bare to have Sam see him like that, to feel the sadness, the despair and the loneliness that had coursed through his veins for so many years. He was pretty sure that their father had disappeared because he was so disgusted with Dean that he couldn't stand looking at his eldest son any longer. That was a lot for anyone to swallow but Dean had swallowed it and it had left him with a permanent empty gnawing sensation in his belly.

"Look Sammy it's really no big deal." He said as he poked at the meatloaf that was on his plate.

"It is a big deal Dean." Sam said quietly.

"It really isn't. It happened years ago and Dad is dead so…" Dean trailed off.

"Why did you let him do that to you?"

"What else could I have done Sammy?"

"Left."

"And left Dad alone like you left me alone? I couldn't do it. I can't abandon the people I love."

"Dean…"

"No Sam. I just can't." Sam took a deep breath and tried to steel his nerves. Dean was frustrating him beyond belief. He supposed that it wasn't anything new, but he felt like it was imperative that he win this argument, that he couldn't just let this one go and allow Dean to draw his own conclusions.

"Why won't you let me say something good about you Dean?"

"What are you going to say Sammy? Huh? That I'm not an arrogant stubborn ass who likes fast women and fast cars and likes to kill? Yeah that's right Sammy. If you look a little deeper into my mind, you'll find that I like to kill."

"I have looked a little deeper." Sam said evenly. Sam had done some searching of his brother's emotions while he had had his head under the hood of the Corvette. He had found that the best way to win an argument with his brother was to keep your cool and let him yell and rant and then when he had run out of steam, then you had to present your argument in a calm even way in order for him to even pay attention.

"I'm sure you are so thrilled to be stuck in there now. Now that you know I'm some cold blooded killer. I belong in Hell more than you know Sammy."

"No you really don't Dean."

"Oh come on Sam, cut the crap. You've lived in my head for almost three days now. You must know by now that I get off on killing."

"You get off on saving innocent lives."

"Whatever."

"You do. You do take pleasure in killing the evil sons of bitches that we have come across, but I don't think it is the killing that you get off on. I think you are really taking pleasure in the knowledge that another family won't be destroyed because of something beyond their control that is just out for some weird agenda and had randomly chosen that family to snack on. Just like the Yellow Eyed Demon did to mom."

"That still is no excuse for enjoying the act of killing."

"You don't kill people Dean."

"I kill things that used to be people."

"Yeah. But they aren't people anymore."

"You believe that Sammy? I don't think so."

"Listen to my mind. What is it saying?"

"I'm trying not to listen."

"Why?"

"I can't take the disapproval at the moment."

"Are you so sure?"

"Yeah."

"Then you haven't learned anything about me in the three days that you have been stuck in my head." Sam looked into the eyes that he used to see out of and knew that look. That was the look that he usually saw emanating from Dean's big green eyes. That look indicated that Dean was reconsidering his earlier statement.

Dean allowed the wall that he had built around his soul to come down. He allowed Sam's thought to flow freely around him. Sam really and truly believed what he said. He did think Dean was a good person. He felt that he was a hero in many ways. Sam saw Dean as someone who should have friends and a life because he was worth that. Sam believed that his brother was special. Dean felt tears flow down his face. His brother loved him and was scared for his life.

"I didn't know Sammy."

"What?"

"That you were scared."

"I've told you that I was scared."

"But, I guess I didn't believe it."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm used to people saying things and then taking them back."

"Dean. I wouldn't be sitting in this body right now, trying to learn as much as possible, trying to fool demons if I didn't love and respect you."

"Chick flick moment." Dean said and wiped the tears from his borrowed face.

"Sometimes chick flick moments are needed Dean."

"Yeah whatever dude."

"Dean. Don't close off on me. I need to learn."

"What is there to learn? I'm not that complicated."

"You are more complicated than you think."

"If you say so dude."

"I do. Tomorrow we need to start practicing."

"And, how, pray tell do we start practicing acting like one another?"

"Combat."

"You want to hunt like this?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Not exactly go out and hunt but do drills. I mean the demon is going to expect us to fight. And they know how we fight well enough by now to know how we go about it. That seems like the best place to start." Sam said.

"Okay. Tomorrow then." Dean nodded and looked down at his plate.

"Hey, Sammy, thanks."

"For what?"

"For not giving up on me."

"I couldn't. You're my brother."


	13. Dishes With Bobby

Chapter 13

Dean decided to help Bobby get the kitchen cleaned up before he went to bed. "Dean you sure that's you in there?" Bobby joked, Dean never liked cleaning anything other than the Impala. Dean shrugged Sam's shoulders and wiped the dish that was in his hand.

"Are you sure this is going to work Bobby?"

"I wouldn't have risked the two of you if I didn't think it would work."

"If we screw this up, even a little bit, that is the end of Sammy." Dean paused and looked at the hands that he was borrowing. "I can't look at his face for the rest of my life." Dean looked over at Bobby and the look on his face reminded him of the night in that dark dismal cabin where Sam laid, just out of the way, dead as a doornail and Dean's emotions strung so tight that he had snapped at Bobby. Bobby had looked hurt and sad and he looked that way right now.

"You guys won't screw this up." 

"How do you know?"

"You and your brother know each other inside and out." Dean's eyes widened and gave a half shake of his head. He finished drying the dish in his hands and leaned against the counter.

"I've learned more about Sam in the last three days then I ever thought possible. I didn't know how good he had it with Jessica."

"But you understood his grief."

"Of course. He lost someone close to him."

"You must have had an inkling as to how good she was to and for him by the depth of his grief." Dean thought about that for a moment.

"I guess you're right." Dean's thought allowed Sam's thoughts and feelings flow over his soul. "I don't think I ever truly believed that he thought I was important."

"Well, then you were the only person in the hunting community that missed that."

"What?"

"The entire hunting community knows not to mess with Sam Winchester because Dean Winchester will blow your brains out."

"Good. I'm glad that is known, especially after Gordon."

"Well that reputation is because of Gordon."

"Glad to know that misery was worth something. That Bella bitch," he mumbled.

"But it is also known that Sam Winchester doesn't approve of anyone hurting Dean."

"What? How?"

"Let's just say that Sam has called enough people trying to figure out a way to help you that word has gotten out that Sam isn't someone to be crossed when it comes to his big brother. Most hunters, when they ask about you or your brother they ask about you two as a unit. There are a lot of hunters out there that are really rooting for the two of you. They want Sam to get this deal broken. Everyone seems to know that you and Sam as a unit is vital to save us in this war."

"Why are we so important?"

"I don't know Dean, but everyone feels it. The bond you and your brother share is stuff of legends. It is powerful stuff. It's just a shame that you have always felt that it was one sided."

"I just always figured that he left for Stanford as much to get away from me as to get away from Dad." Bobby started to speak and Dean cut him off, "I know different now Bobby. Living in this head has taught me that he left because he couldn't take dad and he was disappointed that I didn't show more support. I just hope that he understands that I wanted to."

"I think he does." Dean put up the last dish and wiped his hands on the towel.

"Well, I think I'm going to head to bed. Talk to Sam about how we are going to go about this."

"Maybe a hunt really would be the best idea."

"But we could seriously get hurt."

"I know of a little haunting about an hour up north. Nothing major, just a salt and burn. You two could take care of it in your sleep."

"Well, yeah, when my sleep involves my own body. I know what hurts that body, I don't know what hurts this one. I know that I have to sleep a certain way because it will hurt his back."

"Ask him. Let him ask you. That could be part of the learning process." Dean thought about it for a moment and decided that Bobby was probably right. It made more sense to do it that way. Dean nodded and pushed away from the counter.

"Thanks Bobby," he said and headed towards the stairs. "Night."

"Night Dean."

He found Sam on his bed looking through a car magazine. "You know," he said as Dean entered the room.

"What?"

"I have never once looked at a car and thought 'wow that's a cool car, I wonder what type of engine it has.' Now, here I am looking through this magazine almost salivating at the sight of this engine. This is almost weirder than I can handle."

"Well, first off, you are taping into my interests and second, it must be one hell of an engine. I don't salivate at just anything." Sam shook his head and put the magazine down and watched as Dean took off his watch and unbuttoned his shirt. "Bobby says that there is a hunt an hour north of here."

"Is he going to go take care of it?"

"No, he thinks we should take care of it."

"But like this?"

"He says it might just be the best way to learn how to hunt."

"It might be dangerous."

"Says it is just a simple salt and burn."

"That may be. But Dean, come on, you know how 'simple salt and burns' go for us."

"This is true." Dean stopped and tried to figure out how to say what needed said. "Sammy, we need the practice, if this is going to work. It will work. We just need to work at it." 

"But a hunt? What if the demon is watching us?"

"Then we better be calling each other by the appropriate name and acting like the other one."

"This is gonna get confusing." Sam said with a chuckle.

"Who are you kidding? It already is." Both brothers chuckled. "Sam?"

"Hmmm."

"You have to quit using that sissy voice. I didn't even know my throat could make such a girly sound." Sam sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. Some things in this life were never going to change, and fortunately or unfortunately, his brother was one.


	14. Dean: Sammy: Sammy: Dean

The next morning they woke up at relatively the same time, which for the Winchesters was an odd occurrence. Both were sort of anxious about getting out there and hunting in bodies that they hadn't operated for the last 20 odd years. Dean vaguely felt like he was borrowing someone's car and couldn't get the seat in the right place and the rearview mirror just couldn't be put in the right spot for him to see. He could see, he just felt like he couldn't see as much as he could in his own car and it bothered him. But they had decided last night to hunt, and that meant they had a lot of talking to do, a lot of work to do before they could go on this "simple" salt and burn and take care of that pesky ghost.

"Sammy? You awake?"

"Yeah. I am."

"We need to figure out what to do."

"Keep sleeping?"

"You never want to keep sleeping."

"Haven't had any nightmares since I've been stuck in your head. Kinda nice."

"I didn't think you still had nightmares."

"Not all of the time, and not like I used to have. I just don't have good dreams."

"I haven't had any dreams." Dean stated.

"Huh. Must be nice. You get my body to work better than I can."

"About that."

"What?"

"When you hunt…do you have to favor a side or something?" 

"I don't understand."

"I know that we've hunted a lot and you have taken some good knocks. I was just wondering if anything except your back hurts."

"Well, right wrist isn't so strong anymore. After that stupid zombie chick broke it, it hasn't exactly been right since. You have to baby it a little. It'll hurt if you hold your gun for too long." Dean nodded. "What about you Dean?"

"My knees."

"You never look like your knees hurt you."

"Well, I've been kicked in the knees one too many times, slid the wrong way one too many times, and squatted too often. Plus, dude I'm approaching 30."

"That is so not old Dean."

"In the hunting world it is ancient."

"I guess you're right." Sam paused and thought for a second. "What do you do about it?"

"I take some pain meds before I do anything physical."

"Then…"

"I take them just about every morning."

"I've never seen.."

"Dude, you don't watch everything that goes into my mouth. And I quote 'Dean you are so disgusting when you eat.'" Sam rolled his eyes.

"I suppose you're right."

"Yeah, dude, I'm right."

"Okay, oh wise one, what is the first thing we need to do to get ready for this."

"I guess you need to go do the research on the house and I need to check our artillery." Dean said as he got up.

"No. I need to go check the artillery, you need to do the research."

"What?"

"In case you haven't looked in a mirror this week, you aren't exactly the one that is expected to do the gun cleaning."

"But…no demon can see what we are doing when we are here."

"But when we are on a hunt, I'm the one who usually spouts the information on the house or the haunting, and tell you how to shoot and kill the evil nasty. Very rarely do you ever have any vital information. So, that means, little brother, that you have to do the research."

"I am so not your little brother."

"You are until I am back in my 6'4 body." Sam got out of bed and grabbed the clothes and headed towards the bathroom.

"But…Sam…where?"

"You let my mind steer you in regards to your free time so let it do the same in regards to research." Sam shut the door and the water started in the shower. Dean sighed and sat down on the bed and ran a hand through hair that was way too long.

"I so should give you a hair cut Sammy…you know maybe some night when we have this straightened out I will come in by the dark of night and shave a nice long strip in your head." Sighing, he stood and forced himself to find Sammy's computer. Once found and turned on, he settled down and he relaxed enough to allow Sam's brain and body do what was necessary to complete the task. Like Sammy, he sat there through all of the commotion of Sam getting the necessary shot guns out of the car, sitting them on the bed and cleaning them and making sure they were loaded and ready for bear…or in their case ghost.

"So what do you have college boy."

"What?" Dean asked aggravated.

"Don't really like that nick name do you?"

"Shut up bitch."

"Nope. Bitch is my line. You get to say jerk." Dean threw up his hands exasperated.

"Why are you so hell bent on doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Acting like me."

"I want this to go well. Perhaps you should start talking like me."

"I don't know enough big words." Sam rolled Dean's big green eyes.

"You have my intelligence at your finger tips. Use it. Now what have you found?"

Dean sighed and tried his best to give the information in the same way that Sam would. "Well, it looks like some nasty stuff went down in that house. The children were victims of child abuse. Looks like the mother did stuff like burning them on the stove, putting them in boiling water, and starvation and eating their own filth." He felt his voice hitch. Dean so did not cry. He must really be getting into "character" he swallowed and continued. "Looks like the mother finally killed the kids and then she was shipped to an insane asylum."

"Sounds like vengeful spirit material to me."

"Definitely."

"Where are they buried?"

"The kids are buried in Pine Hills Cemetery, it's a kind of out of the way place, just a couple of miles from St Rt 4."

"What about the mother?"

"Still at Anderson Mental Facility."

"How old were the kids?"

"10 and 14."

"Wow. That was one sick puppy. How can you do that to your kids?"

"I do not know."

"So, what do we do?"

"Looks like we go and salt and burn the kid's bones."

"I'm ready when you are Sammy." Dean said as he closed the computer. They packed their things, got the car ready and were just about ready to leave when Bobby stopped them.

"You boys ready?"

"Think so." Sam said from the driver's seat. To anyone who knew the Winchesters superficially, they wouldn't notice anything was amiss. It looked like Dean was sitting in the driver's seat, leather coat collar pulled up in the back and ready to go, while Sam, sitting in the passenger's seat looked tired and mournful as if the whole world was planted on his shoulders. Bobby, however, knew the boys well enough to see the subtle differences.

"You boys really need to be careful out there." 

"We've hunted all of our lives Bobby." Dean said.

"No. I mean about how you conduct yourselves outside of my property. Demons can't watch you on my property. Let's just say I've erected a sort of demon black out around my land and garage. But once you are outside my bounds, they will be able to watch you and if you guys slip up they will notice that something is amiss. You two need to be careful of what you call the other."

"Huh?" was Dean's intelligent reply.

"Dean, you need to look at your body and say Dean, not Sam or Sammy. And Sam you need to look at your body and call it Sam or Sammy. You need to work on your voice Sam, and Dean you need to make sure you use that body gracefully, and allow yourself to wear your heart on your sleeve because that is what your brother does." Both looked at one another and sighed.

"Okay, thanks Bobby. We'll try to be home before tomorrow night."

"Call if you can't make it before tomorrow night." Both nodded.

"Ready to go Sammy?" Sam asked Dean.

"Let's just go Dean." Dean said to his brother. Bobby rolled his eyes and watched the two drive away from his protection. He hoped this would go well. They couldn't afford for it not to. Demons were watching and they would pounce on this slip faster than you can say demon. Bobby gave a silent prayer to God that everything would turn out all right.


	15. Sammy GPS

The brothers endured the ride in silence. There was so much to consider on this hunt. How do you act like someone you've spent a lifetime protecting or a lifetime being protected?

"So," Sam started. "How do I do this?"

"Do what?" Dean asked as he looked down at the map. Shotgun was not his forte and he was trying his best to keep from passenger seat driving so he was doing anything he could think of to keep his hands and mind busy. Sam's mind seemed to be able to look at a map, make sense out of it, and be able to decide course of action. It was like he had his very own GPS system in his head. It was kind of cool.

"Hunt like you do." Dean looked up and over to his brother.

"You remember every nickname that I've ever given you, you are good a shoveling my emotional shit, better than I am mind you, and you want to know how to hunt like me? How many hunts have you and I been on?"

"But, Dean, I'm never the one doing…well…"

"You usually stand behind me and watch my back. You don't know how to reverse that role and take the lead."

"Yeah." Sam said glancing big green eyes in Dean's direction.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better little brother, I'm not quite sure I know how to let you take the lead."

"That doesn't make me feel better. You are the one with the answers."

"I wasn't the one that went to college."

"No, but you always tell me that you know what is best because you are the oldest." Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was one moment in which he wished that he wasn't the older one, that he wasn't the one who was supposed to have all of the answers. He was tired of trying to figure things out. He wished that he could just hand the burden off onto someone else. He wished he could just give it to Sammy, just for a little bit. But Sammy was right, he did tell him all of the time that he was the one who knew best because he was the oldest, and again he would have to come up with a way to explain. He really wished who it was that told him that the eldest had all of the answers, because obviously, he so did not have all of the answers to this equation.

"I'm fairly sure that you don't listen to me most of the time Sammy, why do you only listen to things that you can throw in my face?" He said as a way of stalling for time. He needed time to come up with an answer, and he wasn't good at resisting Sam Silences. They were the worst. They were full of expectation and intensity. Sometimes they were just too much.

"I'm your pain in the ass little brother, what else am I supposed to do?" Sam said with a smirk. Dean sighed and leaned back against the seat.

"Look, I don't really know what we are supposed to do."

"Walk me through your thought process during a hunt."

"What?"

"Just walk me through it." Dean sighed again, he realized that he was doing that more this week than he had in his entire life.

"Well," he threw his hands up. "First, I go into the area, I am always aware of where my gun is, I'm aware of where my holy water is and I'm aware of where you are at all times. I can feel you like a weight against my back. I know when you move to my left or right, I can just feel it. It's like.." he struggled for the right words.

"Like an imprint?"

"Yeah, but not quite that corny sounding."

"Continue."

"I keep my eyes open for any potential threats, I check out our surroundings for places to hide, or places that would make it difficult to get a clear shot of the evil critter. Then, I usually send you off to the side that I'm pretty sure is clear and I continue forward, looking to draw out the critter. You usually come back to me, give me a little information, some of which is useful, and then we continue forward until we find the evil son of a bitch."

"Okay. So I need to take point. Send you to look around."

"Yeah that's pretty much it."

"I probably should allow your mind to do most of the talking."

"Why?" 

"Because you usually say some pretty wicked funny stuff, that if we were in a better situation, I would be inclined to laugh at."

"Awww, Sammy you think I'm funny."

"Shut up." Dean chuckled.

"Sammy you are so easy to mess with." Dean paused and turned to examine his own profile and really found this weird. Sam was mimicking his style of driving so well that he wondered if Sammy was letting Dean's mind drive or if Sam had just watched him drive so often over the years that he knew exactly how to mimic his older brother. That would be a point better left discussed before bed, when they were safe and sound at Bobby's. "So, how do you do it?"

"Hunt?"

"No, Sammy. I thought we were talking about sex. Yes, of course I mean hunt."

"Well, I follow your lead. Whatever you tell me to do I pretty much do. I usually get the innocent people out per your instructions and once they get to safety, I go back down and do what I can to cover you and help destroy the bad guy." Dean nodded.

"Sounds like this shouldn't be too hard."

"I hope not."

"Yeah," Dean sighed "because this is one hunt we can't screw up." 


	16. EMF

They arrived in the one horse town and found the house that they were looking for rather quickly. Dean had found in his research, that the man who was the father of the children, who had been murdered, was found dead in his home a couple of months ago, and his distant relatives had put the house on the market. Dean had called the realtor posing as a home inspector and asked her to meet him and his partner at the house so they could go through it.

When they pulled up the driveway of the small but quaint two story brick home, they saw the realtor standing outside of it with a tense smile on her face.

"Show time." Sam said attempting to affect the deep gravel voice that his brother usually had. Dean did his best to keep the smile from spreading across his face; Sam didn't exactly have it right. He sounded more like he was a kid trying to sound like his father than he did his brother.

'Dean is my father.' Crossed the mind Dean inhabited. Dean, being the master liar and actor that hunting had made him, was able to keep the look of shock off of his brother's face. Instead he kept the even happy go lucky look on Sam's face that he had practiced in the mirror this morning.

He poked at the thought as he followed Sam, wearing Dean's body, go towards the house. He allowed memories of him helping Sam learn how to ride a bike, or showing Sam how to shoot a gun, or helping Sam with the rigorous training sessions that their father had put them through flow through Sam's mind. The memories came with the knowledge that these sharing these experiences had intensified their connections as brothers. However, it was the preteen and teenage things that had solidified Sam's feelings of paternal love as well as brotherly love towards his brother. Flashes of Dean explaining how women work, which Sam knew now was completely inaccurate, Dean's defending Sam against various school bullies, posing as his father to teachers and going to conferences to check on his brother's progress after Dean had graduated college. The quintessential memory was when Dean told Sam the truth about the family business. Dean finally realized what exactly the amulet meant to Sam. It was meant for his father. Dean always thought that meant John Winchester, but it didn't, not to Sam, it meant Dean Winchester.

Dean blinked trying to clear the memories from his mind and focus on what Sam was saying to the realtor.

"….we need to make sure the wiring and foundation is safe before someone buys this house. Have you noticed anything strange?"

"Strange?"

"Noises," Sam began. "Flickering lights."

"Well, the wiring is old. I have a hard time keeping the lights on the entire time we are here. I called an electrician; he couldn't find anything wrong with the wiring. I got the impression that he thought I was just nuts." Dean looked down at the pad of paper that he had in his hand and pretended to scribble that bit of information down. It was strange to be the one doing the nodding and writing instead of talking.

"So you haven't heard any noises or anything." Sam repeated. He sort of liked being the pushy one. Being the one to smooth things over with people got tiring.

"Young man why would noises matter?"

"Rats." Dean said trying to save.

"Are you accusing this house of having a rodent problem?"

"Not accusing it of any such thing ma'am." Dean said hoping that his voice sounded as soothing and placating as his brother's usually did. "We have just been inspecting a lot of houses around the area and quite a few people mentioned that they were having a difficult time keeping the rats out of their homes."

"Yeah," Sam tried for one of Dean's self assured chuckles. "One woman said that she moved out here from New York because she wanted to get away from the rats. And here she is battling the little suckers again." The realtor seemed to buy the lie they were offering her and she gave another nervous little smile.

"Well, I have heard something moving around in the basement. I don't know what rats in a basement sound like, but maybe that's it."

"You look tense Ms. Yanacy." Sam said.

"This house gives me the creeps to be honest."

"Well, why don't you let us inside and we'll check out the problems." Mrs. Yanacy smiled.

"That sounds like a good idea. I'll just wait out here for you." Both nodded and headed inside.

Inside, the house was plain, it was just like any other house in the United States. Large living room, smaller kitchen, done in pastels, and the stair case was right inside the entry way. Just a simple plain two story house. Sam and Dean looked at one another, and Sam pulled out the EMF detector and began scanning. Dean hung back and looked around, tried not to look too much like he wanted to take point, and followed Sam.

"Get anything?" Dean asked.

"A little but not much."

"Basement?" Dean asked.

"Maybe," Sam said. "Take the upstairs," Sam commanded in a better imitation of Dean's deep gravel. "You have your own EMF don't you?" Dean nodded and headed up the stairs. The only person in his life that Dean had ever taken orders from was his father. He had fretted about this part of the switch since they started the drive out here. He had been concerned that he wouldn't be able to allow Sam to take point and to tell him what to do. However, it was easier than he had anticipated.

For the first time in his life he wasn't worried about Sam. Sam could take care of himself. He wasn't sure if it was because he was in Sam's body and his body felt comfortable with taking commands from Dean, or if it was because he felt that he was still protecting his little brother by proxy. Really and truly Sammy wouldn't get hurt if he were thrown against the wall or something shot at him, it would only hurt Dean, and Dean was used to being hurt. Maybe that was why he felt so comfortable allowing Sammy to be in charge.

Dean forced himself to pay attention to the work at hand. He had reached the end of the hallway. There was only one door left and it was closed. He sighed and opened it, and the moment the door was opened he felt a spine tingling cold that he hadn't felt in a very long time. In addition to the cold the EMF reader went berserk.

"S-Dean!" he yelled finding it strange to be yelling his own name. It was a matter of second before Sam was at his side.

"Wow. Those are some strong ass readings." He said.

"Definitely haunted."

"Are we sure it's the girls?"

"That's the only vengeful spirits I could find online that would account for the man being killed."

"Any other violent deaths?"

"Well, things get a little sketchy."

"What do you mean sketchy?"

"The house was built in 1910. The first owners didn't live here long, the second owners lived here about a year, and then there was this family, the Murry's if I recall correctly," Dean was surprised he had retained this much from the reading. Damn. It must be nice to have a brain that collected information like a storage container. "The Murry's had one child, and the child wasn't exactly known as the friendliest. Well, the family died rather mysteriously and the child was put into foster care. The house stood empty on the market for a few years before the lady who tortured her kids moved in."

"House sounds possessed."

"Yeah it does." Dean agreed.

"Think maybe the house made the woman torture and kill her kids."

"Good possibility."

"What do you think could cause that?" Sam asked.

"Indian burial grounds maybe?"

"Maybe. I guess this means we gotta research more don't we?" For the first time ever, Dean didn't mind the sound of research. And for the first time in his life, Sam was itching to shoot something evil. His trigger finger burned with the desire to kick some serious evil butt.


	17. Self Loathing

The only part of the library that Dean usually liked was the records portion. It always peaked his interest to look through old deeds and birth certificates. It probably had something to do with the fact that it not only kept his mind active but it gave him something to do with his hands, made him feel like something was actually being accomplished. Reading dusty volumes regarding the supernatural or surfing web sites until his eyes fell out of his head was never something he thought was fun. Nor, did he ever really come up with anything valuable. Reading was like trying to understand someone who was speaking Chinese. It just never clicked for him. Like pleasure reading, the words never played in his head as anything other than words. However, being stuck in Sammy's head did have its advantages.

He had managed to borrow a few volumes from the local library and cross referenced, now that was a phrase he never even thought would be apart of his vocabulary, with the internet websites that Sam had bookmarked on his computer. He wasn't finding anything that really pointed to anything other than a seriously pissed off spirit. He just wasn't sure if it was the spirit of the tortured children or of another someone who had haunted the house for a much longer time that that of the children.

He heard the shower turn off and he sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose before going back at the research. Sam came out of the bathroom and flopped down onto the bed.

"Dude, we need to get to sleep." Sam said from the bed.

"Just a minute, I'm almost done Sammy."

"No, we need rest." Dean turned to his brother.

"Something is up with you. You have never imposed a bedtime on me before."

"Don't turn this into something Dean. We just need sleep. It takes a lot to pretend to be someone else all day." Sam sighed and leaned back onto the bed.

"Don't I know it?" Dean closed the laptop and took off his jeans and button down shirt and climbed into bed. "Tomorrow night we need to get into that house and see the ghost for ourselves."

"And if it doesn't show?"

"Then we make it show."

"You mean summon it?"

"Unless you have a different idea, yeah," Dean reached over and turned off the light in between the two beds.

"Night Sam." Dean rolled over onto his stomach and cuddled the pillow underneath his head.

"Why is it so hard Dean?" Sammy asked after a few moments of silence.

"What are you talking about?"

"Sitting down and being patient."

"I'm not good at doing nothing. Makes me nervous."

"I know it does. What are you afraid is going to happen if you just chill out?"

"You're the one that is good at shoveling my emotional shit. You figure it out and tell me. Because I sure as hell don't like the feelings I get. It got real bad after you left for college."

"With dad beating on you…."

"Sammy, I don't want you looking at those memories."

"Why not?" Dean sighed and forced himself to sit up.

"I thought you wanted to go to bed."

"You are avoiding the question."

"Damn right I'm avoiding the question. We are doing this to get out of the deal, to save a few lives, other than mine, we don't need to go explore my psyche."

"You're afraid I won't look at you the same way again."

"What do you know?"

"I just heard it flit through your brain."

"I think my brain is miswired."

"Dean."

"Sammy, I don't want any of your patronizing crap. I just want you to stay out of it and not bother it. I don't go looking through your mind for your deepest darkest secrets. I don't purposefully go looking for things about Jessica."

"Maybe you should." Sam said quietly.

"What?"

"Maybe we should use this opportunity…"

"To what, Sam, invade each other's privacy?"

"No, to learn about each other."

"We know each other better than most brothers."

"While that may be true…I think the more we know about each other, the fewer surprises, will make it more difficult for any demon to be able to detect the hoax."

"I don't think so Sammy."

"You can't stop me if I choose to do it."

"No, I can't. But I don't think I'd be able to look at you the same way if you did that to me."

"Dean."

"No, Sammy. You don't need to know about that part of my life. You left. You lived a very happy four years with the most beautiful woman on earth and you don't need to know what you left behind. Please, just leave it alone."

"Dean, you didn't deserve-"

"Yes! Damn it! I did deserve everything I was given. I wasn't a good son, I'm not a good enough brother, I'm not a good enough protector, I'm not smart enough, I'm not fast enough, I'm not strong enough, I'm not ENOUGH Sammy! I never have been and never will be. Dad proved it by beating the hell out of me, and you proved it when you left. It is just a fact of my life. It's like taking on air. So, please, leave me some shred of dignity and don't go poking in things that you shouldn't and don't try to give me some crap about how what I just said isn't right. Because I know it is Sammy. Why else is it so easy for people to ditch me? Are you sure you want to break this deal because you want me around? Or is it because you feel like you are just expected to do so?" Sam was stunned.

"Dean? We talked about this the other day? I don't understand what happened? I thought you understood how I felt…How could you think?"

"Not hard Sammy. Poke around that statement. I'm sure you'll find an answer that is to your liking. Night Sam." Dean turned over and officially cut off communication lines with his brother. Sam, stunned, leaned back against the head board unable to figure out what had just happened, and more importantly, how to fix it.


	18. Protect Heart

Both brothers pretended to sleep. Sam was desperately trying to figure out what to say to Dean and Dean was desperately trying to figure out how to apologize to Sam. Sam didn't need all of that emotional crap thrown at him. Sam shouldn't even be in Dean's body right now, he should be in his own with the knowledge that he will be fine and that the hell spawn won't be coming for him in less than three weeks. That was no one's problem but his own.

"Hey Dean." Sam said after three hours of silence.

"What?" Dean asked gruffly.

"I want you to look at my memories of Jessica."

"Why?"

"Because, if you want to understand me, then you need to understand that part of my life and how she affected it. She changed me man. You need to see how she changed me. So I give you full permission, hell I want you to look at those memories. I think they will give you a better handle on who I am and therefore make it easier for you to play me."

"Sam…"

"I don't expect the same permission, but I just want you to have it."

"Sammy." Dean sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"Unloading that self loathing crap onto you. You didn't deserve it."

"I needed to hear it."

"No one outside of my head needs to hear that crap."

"Well, then, I guess I do need to hear it."

"What?"

"I'm inside your head. I guess I need to hear it." Silence greeted Sam and he decided that he had perhaps pushed too far. Dean often reverted to silence when he didn't want the conversation to take a route he wasn't prepared to drive down.

"It was the first week you left. You had been gone, I don't know, maybe four days. Well, I wasn't dealing well, and you weren't returning my calls, so I was scared too. Dad and I had pretty much stayed out of each other's way. We weren't exactly in the best of moods…."

Sam listened, but it was like watching TV. Because as Dean glossed over the details, Dean's brain was providing Sam with a visual to go along with Dean's narrative.

"Dad decided that it was time go on a hunt. Our first hunt since you left…"

"_Dean. Come on. There is a haunting in Northern Idaho."_

"_Dad…are we sure we're ready? I mean without Sam…"_

"_We'll manage. Come on Son. We need to get back in the saddle. We can't help it if your brother chooses to be a selfish bastard." Dean wanted to correct his father, but he couldn't. Right at that precise second, he felt that Sam was, in fact, a selfish bastard. _

_They drove to the site; Dean did the research. It was absolutely no news to anyone that Dean was the fastest or the most thorough when it came to researching. Words weren't his forte. Numbers, no problem. Words not so much. Their father had become used to Sam's quick researching skills and had come to depend on them. So, after many times of coming in and out of the hotel room asking Dean if he had found anything, John Winchester had grown annoyed and restless. And the more their father had breathed down Dean's neck the harder it was to make sense of the words swimming across the page. Frustration burned up his body and he didn't know what to do. Dean knew that he couldn't move any faster, and he knew that if he tried to skim he would miss something vital. He had done that once before and it had almost cost their father his life. _

"_I'm moving as fast as I can, Dad." John Winchester sighed and grabbed his car keys. _

"_I'm going to the bar down the way. I'll be back in a while; you better have something ready for me. I'm counting on you Dean." Dean nodded and focused back on the book that was in front of him. He wished that they wrote books regarding the supernatural, at least ones that were of some use, in real English. This crap with thees and thous and whatever the word 'hath' meant, was more difficult than reading a book in real English and that took work too. _

_Dean worked virtually all night, looking longingly at his cell phone that he had put on the table. Looking at it in hopes that Sam would call, and that in addition to knowing how he was and being relieved by the sound of his voice, he would be able to ask Sammy what some of this crap meant. _

_The clock turned three a.m., and shortly after that John Winchester came tumbling into the hotel room. _

"_You found anything yet?" he slurred._

"_No, sir."_

"_Why not?"_

"_I just can't read that fast."_

"_Maybe you should have been the one to go to school, you need it more." Dean, who was already embarrassed by his lack of education, blushed and tried to focus on the book in front of him again. "Your brother would have had this part of the hunt finished by now."_

"_I'm not Sammy."_

"_Well, isn't that obvious?"_

"_What is your problem?" Dean asked in a sudden bout of defiance and annoyance._

"_What did you say to me young man?"_

"_You heard me." Dean said belligerently. John, in a quick movement that left Dean stunned as well as in pain, punched his eldest son in the eye. Dean fell off of the chair that he had been occupying for the last several hours. He put a hand to his eye and was speechless. Humiliation stung the back of his eyes, anger burned in his stomach, and betrayal slithered through his veins like liquid ice. Never in his life had his father raised a hand to either him or Sammy and now, with Sammy gone, Dean was on the floor, and would probably be sporting a rather large black eye in the morning._

"_Don't you ever speak to me that way again! I am your father; you will treat me as such. Otherwise you will end up like your precious little brother, never allowed to come back home. Now, find out about that house." John Winchester stumbled away from his son and left him with an altered perception of himself and of his father._

"…so you see Sammy, I learned that I just wasn't as important as you. I learned what Dad really thought of me." Sam was happy that they were in the dark because while Dean had verbally recounted the story and his brain had played the visual portion of the presentation, he began to cry. Dean had played off the whole incident as a learning experience, but Sam was inside his brother's mind, and he knew just how sad that memory was for him, how it was a turning point in his relationship with his father. Dean had thought that his father respected him as a person, and found that not only didn't he respect him, he thought he was stupid. Sam never knew just how much his lack of education bothered his brother. Dean was embarrassed, no matter how much his body wanted to fight the emotions his heart was sending it, he still felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

With his father's betrayal, he had learned something; Dean had learned that if he didn't do what people wanted they left. He hadn't gone to bed like his mother had wanted him to do, he had stayed up to play with toys, and she was killed. He hadn't done everything Sam had wanted and he had left, and he hadn't done research fast enough or well enough and his father didn't want him around either. Abandonment was the root of all of his self esteem issues.

"Was Dad drunk?" Sam asked in a whisper.

"Yeah. He was drunk." Dean took a breath. "He asked me the next morning what happened to my eye, told him that I had gone out last night to take a breather from the research and got myself into a bar fight."

"Why didn't you tell him the truth?"

"What good would it have done?"

"Dean…He. Hit. You."

"You left me. What's the difference? One left physical wounds and the other emotional. Same difference." Sam was left speechless. He felt that Dean's words rang true in his mind. He actually had a physical reaction to the feelings. He felt like he wanted to throw up. The agitation that he felt earlier in the day had amplified and he wanted to get up and kick something's ass. However, he finally understood his brother a little better. The belligerence, the uncouth way of handling situations, was a way for him to make sure people didn't like him or didn't want to get to know him further so he wouldn't run the risk of opening his heart and getting it hurt. Two things ran through Dean's mind.---Protect Sammy---Protect Heart.

His brother was more complicated than he ever thought.


	19. Little Dean Lost

Sam had a sudden and very scary revelation—Dean had always expected that his father would hit him one day; he had never expected Sam to leave him. It hurt him more that Sam had left him because he had always thought that Sam enjoyed his company. Sam did enjoy his company, no matter how much he had complained about all of Dean's quirks, in the end he wouldn't have his brother any other way. What scared him most was the fact that some of the quirks that he associated with his brother were defense mechanisms. Sam was really starting to wonder who exactly his brother was, because, despite him following Dean around all of his life and observing him and trying to take it all in, he wasn't taking in the real Dean, he was taking in an affection, a person that Dean made up in order to protect himself.

Sam looked over at his brother, and in the pale moonlight, he watched Dean roll over onto his side away from Sam. Sam turned back and starred at the ceiling. He had to figure out who his brother really and truly was, and he was fairly certain that Dean didn't even know himself. The mental image he had made of himself was like a hologram. It flickered when it was touched. It smiled but there was no person behind that smile, it was as if he had turned on a computer generated image to keep people out and even to keep himself out. Dean didn't even really want to know who he was, Dean was afraid of what he would find. Sam on the other hand, was not afraid of what he would find. Sam closed his eyes, and forced himself to put himself into that part of Dean's head that reflected his mental image.

There stood the brother that he had always known. Tall, straight backed, wearing his brown leather jacket, hair spiked just so, and cocky smile in place. Sam went towards the image. He tentatively touched the image and it flickered, and Sam jerked back his hand. The image reformed and stood there tall and imposing. Sam, bolder, pushed his whole hand through the chest of the image. The image dissipated when Sam's hand disrupted a large portion of it. Once past the image of his adult brother he found himself looking into what seemed like eternal dark. This couldn't be what Dean was. Dean couldn't be darkness.

Sam decided to press forward. Maybe he had to push through the darkness to find his brother. He walked aimlessly through the darkness, trying to walk in a straight line, occasionally turning his head from side to side looking to catch some glimpse of his brother. He felt like he was a newly blind man trying to navigate a world he thought he knew. Pressing on for sometime, he thought of giving up when he saw a light some ways deeper in the dark. Sam picked up his pace, hurrying to the little circle of light; the light was so small it resembled a spotlight on a singer. Sam found himself running towards the light, it was symbolic on so many levels, and when he finally reached the light and caught a glimpse of who was inside it surprise flooded every cell in Sam's body. A little boy, about five or six years old, was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, his little arms wrapped around his knees, and his head resting on them, big green eyes wide and dripping tears.

"Can you help me turn on the light?" the little boy asked quietly.

"The light is on."

"But not everywhere. I'm scared. I miss my mommy." The little boy looked up and tears streamed from his eyes. "I want my mommy." He repeated. "She'll know what to do. She'll know how to turn on the light." Sam squatted in front of the child.

"What is your name?"

"Dean." Sam couldn't have been more taken aback if he tried. Sam swallowed hard and sat on the floor Indian style. "Can you turn on the light?"

"Why can't you turn on the light?"

"Too much darkness. I'll get lost."

"What do you mean lost?"

"Once I'm out in the dark, I'll be alone forever. I won't be able to find anyone in the dark. But if I stay here, in this little space where the light is, they might be able to find me."

"Who will find you?"

"My mommy and daddy. They will want to find me and take me back home. I've been away from home for a long time."

"Where is the light switch?"

"I don't know. The light has been getting smaller. It used to be big enough for me to walk around."

"When did the light get so small?"

"It's been getting smaller and smaller for forever. It used to be bright here. It used to be warm." That was when Sam realized that outside of this light it was cold. Inside the light was warm, warm like freshly baked cookies and summer sun.

"How do I turn on the light?" Sam asked again.

"I don't know…but you have to. I don't think mommy and daddy are coming back to turn it on. They left me."

"Dean…they didn't want to leave you."

"Then why did they?"

"They had to."

"If they loved me then they wouldn't have left me so alone." The little boy wiped his nose on his arm and looked up at Sam with those big green eyes that he had always associated with his brother and said, "When the light is gone, what will happen to me?" Fear pulsed through Sam's body. What would happen when the light went away?

"I don't know."

"Are you going to leave me too?"

"No." Sam swallowed. "I won't ever leave you again. But I need to get up and go look for the light. I need to find it for you. It might take a while. Is that okay?" The little boy nodded.

"Please come back." Sam nodded and rested a hand on the child's arm.

"I'll be back as soon as possible." Sam stood and tried to run back into the dark the way he had come.

"Sam!" he felt himself being shook awake. He sat bolt upright in the bed and was greeted by his own face with Dean's haunted soul looking out from his hazel eyes. "Dude, are you okay? You were having one hell of a nightmare."

"I'm fine." He said breathily.

"You sure?" Dean looked genuinely concerned.

"Yeah. I'm sure." Dean gave Sam a look that indicated that he wasn't quite sure he believed his little brother. "I'm gonna catch a shower." Sam said quickly and went into the bathroom and shut the door, turned on the water, and starred at his brother's face in the mirror. That little boy looking for the light haunted him. His big, strong, fierce big brother, the man who never did wrong in Sam's eyes, was nothing more than a scared little boy looking for the light, the light of family, love and warmth, and no one was trying to help him find the switch. Sam began to cry. He cried for the little boy who was scared and for the man who did everything to hide the little boy.


	20. Impala Sick

His shower lasted far longer than was normal, but when you are trying to get the crying out and then to cover up the evidence of said crying, it took a lot longer than anticipated. Sam got the sense that Dean needed that to be let out. Dean hardly ever cried and he most certainly didn't sob. When Dean cried he let a couple of tears free flow, his chin quivered occasionally, but he never let his eyes close. It was as if he was afraid of what was behind his eyes when the emotions poured out. Sam flashed to the child in the circle of light begging for someone to help him and Sam wanted to help that child find the light. He wanted that child to be able to grow up into the strong confident man that Sam had always thought his brother was. Why did Dean think so little of himself when Sam and others thought so highly of him?

That thought created a cascade of others that showed Sam exactly why he felt like he did. Snippets of teachers calling him a lazy slacker when Dean knew in his heart that he had spent several hours trying to understand the reading and do the worksheet, every time someone told him that he wasn't the brains of the outfit, and the time Missouri Mosely told him that he wasn't the sharpest tack seemed to bother him more than the others. Sam suddenly wondered who, other than himself, prized Dean. Bobby was the first and only person to come to mind. Why was that? Why didn't more people respect his brother. The answer came unbidden, because he never lets anyone close to his heart. Sam sighed and checked his brother's reflection in the mirror. His face looked drawn and pale. Dean was sure to notice that he didn't look right. For God's sake it was his face. Sighing, Sam decided that there wasn't anything he could do to make his brother look less scared and upset, plus he figured that Dean was probably wondering what exactly Sam was doing in there. So, he came out of the bathroom, in fresh clothes and clean.

Dean was sitting at the computer finishing the research that he had to do, drinking a cup of coffee and eating an egg sandwich from McDonalds.

"You pretty now?" he asked not breaking his stare on the computer.

"Yeah. Thanks for getting breakfast."

"Not a problem." Sam took out a hash brown and took a bite. He had never liked them before but Dean seemed to like grease and this was definitely greasy. The thoughts of insecurity and the conversation they had had the night before was nagging at him plus the image of the little boy kept appearing in front of his minds eye. He had to get it out. He had to explain.

"Dean, I didn't leave you." He blurted. Dean furrowed Sam's brows and turned to him.

"What?"

"College. I didn't leave you. I left this life. I didn't want to hunt demons and other things for the rest of my life. I wanted to become a lawyer; I wanted to do something with my life."

"I know."

"No, you don't know." Sam tried to drown out the screaming he was hearing in Dean's head. Screaming that said 'if you just left the life then why didn't you call me?!" Sam put hands to Dean's head trying to push the loud thoughts aside and focus on the conversation at hand. "I couldn't call you because that would have been keeping one foot in the life I didn't want to lead."

"So it was easier to just cut me out of your life?"

"No. Yes." Sam sighed. "Dean. It was more complicated than that. Talking to you would have lead to talking to Dad and I wasn't prepared for that."

"But I'm your brother Sammy. I'm the one who raised you."

"I know. I didn't mean to treat you so poorly."

"Didn't you think that maybe, just maybe, that it would hurt my feelings that you didn't call or write or text…anything."

"I thought that it would keep you out of trouble. I don't know. I don't really understand what I was thinking. I just know that, at that time, I had to get away from everything that reminded me of monsters."

"So, I make you think of monsters?"

"Dean…that's not…."

"It's what you said Sammy. For someone with a college education you sure aren't very articulate."

"Dean." Sam said exasperated. "You saw how upset I was when you didn't call me on my birthday. You saw that memory."

"Yeah, and you saw memories of Dad being the holy hell out of me. I think I'm the one who wins, the "I have the worst memory" contest. Why would you assume that I would call you on your birthday when you wouldn't return any of my calls when you first left for Stanford?"

"I kept the voice mails. I listened to them when I was Impala sick."

"Impala sick?"

"We never had a home. It took me forever to realize that I was Impala sick and not home sick. Freshmen would talk about missing their mother's cooking, their beds, their siblings, their neighborhood, the smells of home, that kinda thing. I realized that I missed the creaking of the Impala door, the smell of your aftershave, the smell of leather, the smell of the Impala after we dug a grave and salted and burned the bones, I missed the rumble of the car as you drove and I slept. I was Impala sick. And the Impala means you."

"Well that is all well and good Sammy, you could have called and I would have been there and you wouldn't have had to be so Impala sick." Dean paused. "That is the dumbest phrase I have ever heard. I can't believe that I have actually repeated it." Sam let out a small chuckle.

"Yeah it does sound stupid." He looked down at the breakfast that was in his hand, and then back at his brother. "I didn't mean to leave you. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings."

"Yeah, whatever dude, I'm done with the chick flick moment." Sam sighed his brother was his brother no matter what the outer shell.


	21. Tick Tock

The rest of the day was spent making sure they had the appropriate amount of ammunition, eating, Sam was really relishing in this eating nothing but junk food thing; Dean's stomach could handle just about anything, Sam had never really been able to stomach most spicy foods but Dean's didn't seem to care. He wondered if Dean had had his real stomach replaced with a steel trap.

As soon as night fell the two drove back out to the house. On the outside one would never think that it would be the sight of a haunting. The grounds were well kept and the house didn't have that eerie look that most of the homes they rid of ghosts did.

"For once a nice house." Sam said aloud.

"I was just thinking that." Dean said confused.

"I know." Sam said with a smirk. Dean shook his head and sighed. The two rounded the house to the back door, and Sam handed Dean the lock pick kit, and Dean suppressed a smile. Normally, it was Sam's job to pick the lock. 'And since I'm Sam now, I get to pick the lock.' He thought to himself with an internal chuckle. He hurriedly got the lock picked, handed the picks back off to Sam and the two entered the kitchen. Sam held the shot gun at his middle and took point. Dean held the EMF detector and scanned the area. Sam cleared the kitchen and Dean followed a step behind his brother as they cleared the living room and the bathroom that was located downstairs.

Sam led the way up the stairs and just as they were about to step onto the landing, the EMF reader in Dean's hands went off like a squealing cat.

"I think something's up there." Dean said.

"You think?" Sam said with a hostile edge in his voice. Dean hated to admit it, but that was exactly how he sounded when Sam said something stupid. He hoped that he was playing the role of Sam half as well as Sam played his role. The brothers looked at one another and nodded, they each knew what they needed to do. They each pulled out their shot guns and headed up the stairs more cautiously than they had entered.

Once they reached the upstairs room, they found a sight that they weren't prepared to see. The nice realtor, who hadn't really liked going inside the house because she had sensed the malevolence lurking inside, was lying on the floor, eviscerated, eyes in a wide open death stare, face contorted in a horrible mask of fear and pain and blood pooled around her. The gaping wound that had once been her stomach weeped the remaining bits of her guts and blood onto the floor. As they stood there starring they heard gravity pull down a chunk of her intestine with a wet sticky thwump onto the floor. Dean felt sick. His stomach rolled at the sight of the poor innocent woman, and he felt choked by the smell of warm copper that seemed to stick in his throat. He put a hand to his nose, closed his eyes, and looked away for a moment.

"I think I'm going to be sick." He said choked. Sam, meanwhile, had been distracted by the writing that was on the wall behind the dead realtor. The message was written in blood, presumably that nice woman's blood, and it was so fresh that the blood was still slowly running down the pristine white walls.

"Sam. Look." Sam gestured to the wall and Dean forced himself to look up. The words written made his blood go still in his veins. For the first time in his life he was aware of his own heartbeat, or Sammy's, and it pounded through his ears.

"Oh God." He muttered in horror and amazement. "This is a trap."

"We were lured here to see the message. They are just trying to play with my head." Sam said staying in character as much as possible. He could not let anyone see a crack in the façade, because if a demon noticed as much as an out of place eyelash, his brother was dead.

"Come on. Let's go."

"So, you got there and the realtor was all cut up and her blood was on the wall saying "three weeks, tick tock?" Bobby asked as he took a swig from his beer. Dean sighed and ran a hand through hair, and nodded.

"Looks like they just wanted us to know that they were watching us."

"Guess you boys are going to have to be extra careful from now on." Bobby said. "Maybe spend more time getting acquainted with each others thoughts and feelings."

"That's all we've freaking done Bobby." Dean stood and stalked about the room. "I've had more chick flick moments in the last couple of days then I've been forced to endure my entire life."

"Dean, look at how you are holding Sam's body." Sam nodded from across the table.

"What?"

"You are standing in a threatening defiant posture."

"I don't stand like that." Sam said. Dean threw his arms in the air.

"Then how in the hell am I supposed to stand?! 

"That's what I've been trying to tell you." Sam said frustrated.

"No, you've been trying to get me to relive the crap that has been my life."

"You just don't get it Dean."

"Maybe, you aren't doing a very good job of explaining college boy." Sam rolled his eyes.

"By reliving your emotional crap, I get to see what goes on in your head. I get to feel your feelings, see how you see things, and understand how you think. By doing that, I can compound that with what I've watched as an observer for the last 24 years and play you pretty well. You have just refused to look into my memories---"

"Because they are your private thoughts and memories."

"That's an excuse Dean."

"An excuse for what?" 

"I think you are afraid of what you might see in my head."

"What could I possibly be afraid of?"

"Afraid that I loved Jessica more than you, afraid that I was happier without you in my life. Afraid that you'll get to see my memories of college and be more jealous than you already are." Dean cringed inwardly. Everything Sam said hit a little too close to the truth.

"I'm not jealous." Dean said quietly.

"I've seen your daydreams about what college might be like." Dean turned away.

"They were just wishful fantasies."

"But they are your fantasies. Do you even know mine?"

"I've been shutting them out. I don't want to invade your privacy." Dean repeated.

"Well, you have my permission to pay attention. I want you to pay attention. I need you to play the part, Dean. I can't do this alone man."

"You can."

"Well I don't want to." Those words echoed in Dean's head. They were the words that he used when he had fetched Sammy from college, and the flash of regret flowed through Sam's body. Regret for what?


	22. Regret

"Let yourself hear it Dean." Sam said softly. "The look on your face tells me that you felt something. Indulge. What do you see, I'll walk you through it."

"Regret…that last comment, I said it to you a long time ago, and you felt regret." Dean said and Sam nodded and looked down at the scared kitchen table.

"I hadn't seen you in such a long time. And then you just show up out of the blue and scare the hell out of me. I never expected to see you again, Dean. I figured that you were so loyal to Dad that you wouldn't care to ever speak to me again."

"But you knew that I checked up on you."

"Mild curiosity maybe? You didn't approach me and talk to me. You didn't call me. I figured that you were just making sure that I wasn't telling people the family secret." Dean couldn't believe what he had just heard. Dean had spent so much time being upset that Sam had ignored him all of those years that he had never once thought that Sam felt as if he was being ignored. He had spent so much time missing Sam and feeling like he was alone in the world that he had never once thought that Sam could feel the same way. Sam was the one who could make friends wherever they went; Sam never had a problem fitting in anywhere.

"But, when you came to get me, I fought because I was mad at you."

Like Sam had earlier, Dean fell into Sam's memories, it was liking watching a high definition television complete with surround sound.

"_You can do this alone." Sam had said._

"_Yeah, well I don't want to." Regret filled Sam's body. He had figured that Dean hadn't missed him in all of the years they had been apart. However, that statement proved otherwise. Maybe those times that he had caught Dean checking up on him had been more personal and less checking to make sure that he wasn't blabbing the family secret. He suddenly regretted not calling his brother, or simply stopping in his tracks and turning around and saying 'Hey Dean I see you. You taught me better than to let anyone follow me without my knowledge.' But he had been so hell bent on thinking that Dean had been their father's perfect little soldier that he hadn't thought that Dean cared about him._

_He regretted the fact that he doubted his brother's love for him. He regretted that he hadn't thanked Dean before he left for all he had done. Dean had raised him, taken care of him, told him the family secret, protected him and Sam had repaid his brother very poorly for his efforts. The regret had stung his stomach and changed his mind. He would join Dean on the search for their father. This would be the way to repay his brother. _

"_I'll go with you but I have to be back by Monday." Once dad was found, Sam figured he could go back to his life with Jessica, and maybe this time he would be able to have Dean in his life too. He had wanted to tell Jessica about Dean, tell her more about him, but he had been so angry with Dean for following his father's orders blindly, not sticking up for him when he had wanted to go to school that he had only told her the bare minimum about his brother and not all of that minimum had shown his brother in his best light. He regretted that too._

_He went into his room collected his things, told Jess that he would be back and that he would be all right and not to worry, and he had gone back down to join his brother in what he had assumed would be his last hunting trip._

_In the end his fidelity to Jessica had been what had saved them. When the woman in white had been defeated and he stood there side by side with Dean he had felt right. He had felt like he belonged there and that had scared him more than anything else in the world could ever have. He didn't want to be a part of this life. He ran away from it, he had hurt the person he loved the most to run to California and go to Stanford. He had to see this through. He had to get that law degree. He had to make his life. He had to stay out of the hunting world. He knew that something would go terribly wrong if he stayed. But it felt so right to be sitting in the Impala looking at a map with a flashlight trying to figure out where to go next. It was different hunting with just Dean. Their father, and revenge, had always been the driving force as children. With Dean it was simply, save the people that were in danger from things that they didn't know existed. It was pure and untainted compassion for others that made Dean hunt and live the transient life. _

"_I have to go back." Sam had said again. Dean looked so dejected and Sam tried to ignore the look, because if he ignored it he could pretend that he wasn't hurting his brother's feelings. _

_Dean, like always, did what he was asked, not what he wanted, and retuned Sam to his apartment and made a comment about how they were a good team. Sam felt in his bones that it was true and the rumble of the Impala called to him and made him want to blow off his interview and go with his brother, but he couldn't. He couldn't because he wanted to. He had a beautiful woman in his apartment who he wanted to marry. Until today, he hadn't thought he would be able to have his big brother at his wedding. He figured that Dean wouldn't come or answer the phone if he knew it was Sam. Now he knew that he could call him and ask him to be his best man when the time came. But he had to leave. He had to go back to the normalcy that he had fought so hard for. He owed it to Dean. _

_He went into the apartment and called for his beloved, heard the water running in the bathroom, figured she was taking a shower and would come out smelling like her flowery shampoo that he loved. That brought a smile to his face. She had cookies on a plate for him and he felt his heart swell with love for his Jessica. She was going to make a great mother when they were married. He fantasized about their life together; he would come home from a long day defending the just, and she would have dinner waiting for him and their children would tell him about their day at school and he and Jessica would share each other's days later snuggled on the couch after their children went to bed. He laid down on the bed with that thought on his mind. Contentment filled every pore in his body, all was right with the world, Jessica was his forever, his brother was speaking to him again, and he would have his law school interview tomorrow. That was when he felt the drip on his forehead. He turned away, felt another, and opened his eyes and saw it._

_He saw Jessica plastered to the ceiling in an unnatural position, her lovely blond curls splayed around her like a halo, and she was wearing a white nightgown, one he hadn't even known she owned, and across her thin stomach was a wide and spreading line of crimson. It was her blood that had dripped on his forehead. Her very life was dripping out of her and her and baptizing him back into the world of revenge and supernatural. _

"_NO!" he had yelled right before she had burst into flames. The love of his life had incinerated before him. He felt his heart die with her. He felt it crushed and burning as her body burned. He barely felt Dean coming back in and grabbing him and pulling him to safety. He had barely felt the safety and familiarity of his big brother saving him yet again from something supernatural._

"You know the rest." Sam finished. "But, I've told you over and over how bad it hurt to watch her die on the ceiling. Do you understand now?" Dean hadn't realized but he had started to cry while he relived Sam's memories.

"You once said that I didn't know how you felt because Mom died so long ago."

"Dean…I realize…"

"No. It's true. I had no idea how much that hurt." Dean said rubbing the chest that he currently inhabited. He felt Sam's chest ach as if Jessica had died yesterday and not almost three years ago. "It feels like someone has slashed my chest wide open and poured salt inside it. It burns and there is a dull ach behind the burn. God." Dean said. "No I really didn't know how you felt. I'm sorry dude."

"I don't want an apology. You just needed to know."

"The demon has taken more from you than it has ever taken from me, and that includes if it takes my soul. This ach is horrible." Tears continued to flow down his face. "I felt this way when you died." Dean said quietly. "But I fixed it. I still have you. I don't have to feel this way for the rest of my life."

"I'm sorry Dean."

"Why are you sorry?"

"I shouldn't have made you relive that first."

"No. That was perfect." Sam didn't think it was perfect. He regretted making his brother feel the pain of Jessica's death. He wouldn't wish that kind of pain on anyone, most definitely not his brother.


	23. Raised That Way

Dean stood there for a moment, rubbing Sam's chest, just trying to catch his breath after reliving Sam's worst memory. Sam's memory had affected him to his core. Sam regretted the way he had treated his brother, and Dean was amazed. He always assumed the worst of people, and Sam was proving to him that there was possibly that at least one person in the world that he could expect the best from.

"Dean?" Dean, startled out of his thoughts, looked up at his brother's questioning gaze.

"I'm good." He said slowly trying to pull himself completely back into the here and now. Once he got himself back into the present he said quickly, "I'm going to catch a shower, I think, and then I'm going to go to bed." He turned away and hurried out of the room before Sam could stop him. He barely heard his brother call his name.

In the bathroom he felt safe in the seclusion. He had to get away from his brother. He was stuck with enough of his brother to know that this memory was hurting him and it cost him a lot to relive it. This terrible cold hurt feeling was awful. Dean knew anguish and pain, but his was always hot, ready to explode in a destructive outburst. Sam's burned like a cold fire eating away at him.

Dean turned on the hot water and stripped and got inside. As he allowed the hot water to pour over his back he began to wonder exactly why Sam had such a good outlook on the world. The way Dean saw it, there wasn't reason for Sam to worry about the welfare of others. He and their father had forced Sam, whose disposition demanded roots, to live a transient lifestyle that he hated. He was forced to watch as other kids went home to their parents and siblings, and they didn't have to worry about the latest werewolf attack, or the haunted house in the neighborhood. They worried about homework, soccer, friends, and normal things. If he had Sam's disposition he would have hated every one of those people who go to live the life that he wanted.

But Sam didn't begrudge those people. In fact, he was happy that others had the life that he wanted.

The thought, '_Because that is the way Dean raised me,' _went through the brain that Dean was borrowing. Startled, Dean stood ram rod straight. The water caressed his back and flowed down his spine. Dean couldn't ever remember teaching Sam to be that selfless. Hell, there was no way in the world Dad had ever taught him anything that didn't involve hunting, or how to hold a grudge.

For the second time in less than an hour Dean felt himself slide into Sam's memories.

"_Dean, why can't dad just stay in one place?" A very frustrated 12 year old Sam asked._

"_Because Dad hunts evil remember?" Dean had said exasperatedly. "Or have you forgotten that?"_

"_Bobby hunts evil, but he doesn't move around. He gets to stay in one place, he gets to sleep in the same bed every night of his life if he wants to."_

"_Yeah, but Dad wants to find the thing that killed mom, so other families don't have to go through the crap that we've gone through."_

"_Why should we have to live like this so other people get to be happy? I want to be happy." Dean looked down at his history text book and then back to Sam._

"_It's kinda like the Revolutionary War, you like history right Sammy?" Sam nodded confused. "Well, the colonists wanted their kids, people like us, to have the right to choose how they lived, so they had a crappy time of it for us."_

"_It still isn't fair. Yay for the colonists and thank you very much, but I still want a house and a stable life. I get so mad, so jealous, of the other kids when they get to go home to meatloaf night. I get to come home to maybe soup. I hate it."_

"_But think Sammy. All of those people out there, that Dad has saved, that I have started saving, those people won't ever have to leave that life that you want. They will always get to go home to meatloaf night. They will never have to look at an empty chair where a loved one sat, and wish for their innocence back. We have a responsibility. Not everyone is so lucky as to have their purpose in life spelled out for them like we do."_

"_This is not my purpose in life Dean. It might be yours, but it most definitely isn't mine." Sam had stood up and went into his room and slammed the door. Sam remembered that night, thinking about Dean's words and realizing that his brother was right. Because of people like Dean and their dad, other people would be able to keep their happy lives. Maybe that was something. One day, Sam was going to be one of those happy people, one of these days he was going to be the one married and with children, and he wanted people like Dean to be out there to protecting his family. _

_From that day forward, Sam decided he would try his best to be happy for those that his brother so fervently protected. Sam also realized in that moment just how selfless his brother really was. He had always thought of Dean as selfish and self gratifying. But discovered, in his room, in yet another apartment that was falling apart, that his brother may, in fact, be one of the most selfless people on the face of the planet. Yes. He would make an effort not to be jealous. _

"Well I'll be damned." Dean said in an amazed whisper. "I did raise him to be that way."


	24. Discussion

Dean tried to get to sleep after that. He was able to doze and cat nap but he wasn't able to actually sleep. He rolled over to see if Sam was awake and found that the bed was empty. He checked the clock and it read two am and he sighed. Throwing the covers off of his legs he stood and decided that he needed something to drink. Maybe some hot milk, maybe that would make him sleepy. Hot milk triggered memories of cold nights in the middle of nowhere, Sam scared and in Dean's bed. Dean, when Sam was scared, and they were in a cabin with no heating, but a nice wood burning stove, would heat up milk and give it to Sammy to calm his nerves. Dean smirked to himself. He hadn't thought about that in years. It was good that Sammy remembered something happy about his childhood.

Sam heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. Ever since Dean had taken up residence in his body, he had added a heaviness to Sam's body. Sam was always lighter on his feet, he assumed it had something to do with understanding how to move and function in his own body. Dean, at times, wore Sam's body like one of those creatures in Men In Black, that were too small to pass as human and had to use a motorized human mask to walk around in. Like a creature that was still getting used to the controls, Sam mused as he heard his brother clomp down the stairs.

Dean entered the kitchen and saw his brother sitting at the table nursing a beer.

"What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep, you?"

"Me either."

"Little late for a beer, don't you think Sammy?" Dean asked.

"We need to talk Dean." Dean sighed and opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. He was going to need the buzz if he was going to have THE talk with Sammy.

"I know we do," he said as he sat down across from his brother in the dim kitchen. He looked at Sam and he could tell that he didn't know where to start. Hell, Dean didn't know where to start either. He thought for a moment and then he realized exactly what he wanted to say. "I didn't know you felt this way."

"About what?"

"Me."

"What do you mean?"

"You really and truly respect me." Dean said with a measure of awe.

"I told you that I've been looking up to you since I was four."

"I never really believed you."

"You have your proof now." Sam said and took a sip of his beer.

"I guess I do." Dean said with a nod. " So, how are we going to do this?"

"Fix this mess?"

"Yeah." Dean said looking up from picking at the label on his bottle.

"I don't know." Sam said with a sigh.

"I don't either. I've been reliving parts of your life that I really don't care to, and I don't see how it makes me better at playing you."

Sam looked up and met Dean's eyes. "I guess, well, I read once, that it is believed that perhaps our genetics have less to do with who we are than do our memories and experiences."

"Meaning what college boy?"

"That the memories you are seeing are teaching you who I am and will teach you how to be me. What have you learned?"

"Well, I learned just how much Jessica's death affected you. You feel responsible. You feel like you should have done something. That you could have saved her. That seems to be a weight on your shoulders."

"It is."

"You feel like you can't save anyone."

"Yeah."

"So, it has made you more determined."

"That it has," Sam, nodded with a slow ironic smile. He took another draught of his beer before continuing. He knew this part of the conversation would not be received well by his stubborn ass, no-chick-flick-moments-I-don't-acknowledge-any-of-my-issues brother. "And you are insecure and scared." Sam started his voice soft. "You hide your insecurities with cockiness and sarcasm because you are afraid if people saw the real you that they wouldn't want you around and that you will be abandoned."

"I don't know…" Dean started to defend and claim otherwise.

"Dean, this is the time for truth, not the time for covering up our emotions or thoughts. And the reason you do everything in the world to save people is because you don't want them to have to live with the same fears and insecurities that you live with on a daily basis." Sam said tiredly. 

"Yeah. But where does that get you Sam? What does it matter that you know that? How is that going to teach you anything? How will that make you play me better?"

"I know now that the moment you are scared you use brashness and cockiness to cover your real emotions."

"And do you really think that the demon is going to walk up to you and say boo, just so he can see if you spout any patented Dean Winchester lines?"

"No. But I will know exactly how to act when I walk into Hell."

"Sammy, I really don't want you going to Hell for me. This is my mess not yours."

"Yes, Dean this is my mess." Sam said with an intenseness that scared Dean a little. He understood now why people looked away from him when he was mad. Dean's face was a scary thing when it was intensely frustrated or angry.

"How is this your mess Sam? I am the one who sold my soul. It was my choice. You didn't force me to make this decision." 

"But I did."

"I don't understand."

"You keep asking me if there is something wrong with me." Sam asked seemingly switching gears in the middle of the conversation.

"Yeah. Because you aren't acting like you."

"What exactly does that mean to you?"

"Come on Sammy, I don't want to play games."

"This is important Dean." Sam said determined to force his brother into this realization.

"It means that you are too trigger happy, that you aren't playing by your moral codes. You are playing more by mine and that is scary. You are supposed to balance me out. You are supposed to be the voice of reason."

"But where has that voice of reason gotten me? Hmm? It got me dead. My squeamishness, my need to try to see the best in everyone and to let a higher power do the ultimate judging got me stabbed in the back by a kid who was more interested in saving his family than worrying about mine. He knew that I had a brother. He knew that you were looking for me and probably worried about me. But he didn't care. He heard me scream your name, saw you coming and still he took my life. And because of that, because I didn't take his life when I had the chance, he took mine, and then in turn took yours. Because if I hadn't died, you wouldn't have ever had to contemplate what life would be like with out me, and you wouldn't have had to go to that crossroads and give up your soul for me. So, am I more trigger happy? Damn right I'm more trigger happy. Nothing is going to cost me anything else. I will never have to lose someone to my squeamishness again."

"But Sammy, it's not like I'm going to be able to come back. Once I'm in Hell I'm in Hell. So this won't ever be an issue again."

"But don't you see that Bobby has given us the opportunity to save you?"

"I see this as a risky adventure that is going to get you trapped in the pit."

"Why would I get trapped? They can't keep me. It's not in the deal."

"But, you, the boy king, once they have you I don't think they are going to let you go very easy."

"Dean, I'm not going to submit to them."

"I know that you won't willingly submit to them, but demons are dangerous."

"Dad taught me the same lessons that he taught you."

"But."

"But nothing Dean. I will be fine."

"I can't live without you Sammy."

"I know that. Believe me, I know that now. It's something that niggles in the back of your head all of the time, it's kind of like white noise that I think you've learned to tune out."

"Well, if you know that, then you understand why this whole thing bothers me so much."

"But Dean, they can't keep me. Once I'm down there you and Bobby summon the demon and you demand me back because they broke the deal. And then I get to climb out of Hell and we switch back and everything is fine. We go back to fighting the evil in the world and all is right."

"How can you be so smart and so naive at the same time Sammy? This may not be this easy. They don't have to honor their deal. They may decide that one Winchester is better than no Winchester. I couldn't live like that."

"Dean, demons play by the rules. If they make a deal they honor it. We have to trust that."

"Then that means we have to trust demons."

Sam shrugged. "Sometimes you have to just have faith."

"I'm learning that faith is an important thing to you."

"Without it I have nothing."

"You have me."

"For the last year that has been iffy," Sam said softly, while spinning his beer bottle in a slow circle.

"We need to get out from under this."

"We do. I'm tired of this demon deal hanging over my head."

"Yes. I'm tired of wasting thoughts on this. What do we do?"

"We practice."

"We did. It didn't get us very far."

"All we really did Dean was run the EMF and find a creepy note left to us by a demon."

"Then what do we do?"

"We do a hunt for real; we go out and do the things that we always do. Go to a bar, have some fun. Leave this house. Do something." Dean nodded.

"Okay. Let's do this."

"From now on Dean we can't half ass this."

"No we can't. Let's do this for real."

Sam smiled and raised his beer bottle, "Let's kill some evil sons of bitches and raise a little hell." Dean chuckled and raised his bottle and tapped his brother's. Demons beware, the Winchesters were determined.

A/N: I usually roll my eyes in disgust when I read a line directly taken from the show, and I really didn't want to do that, but that was the only way that I could end it. So, for my nutness that last line came out of "The Magnificent Seven" I would also really appreciate it if you would review! Thanks!


	25. Getting It Right

A/N—When Sam is written "Sam" it is really Dean's soul in Sam's body and when it says "Dean" it is really Sam's soul in Dean's body.

Please read and review!

Determination for a Winchester was obsession for anyone else in the world. The boys, after their late night confessional, decided to forgo sleep, they had done that lots of times before, and begin the real training.

Bobby rose early, like every morning, and went down stairs to fix breakfast for the boys. Despite the nagging worry that ate at his insides, he enjoyed having the boys here. It made life a little less lonely. It made him feel like he was someone. He had felt that once with his wife, felt like anything was possible and that he was the person that could make those things possible, but after her death he lost that spark. The Winchester boys felt like his children. He had known them since they were just knee high to a grasshopper and ever since then he had felt like he could do anything. These boys made him feel alive again. And ever since Dean had told him that he had sold his soul for his brother's life fear and nervousness had burned in his stomach.

He made quick work of the skillet and had pancakes done quickly and managed to get the oatmeal done in the same amount of time. He called up the stairs for the boys and after receiving no response, he called up to the room again, still no response. Bobby, worried more than he already was, hurried up the stairs as fast as his old legs would allow, and pushed open the bedroom door. Neither boy was in their beds.

"Sam? Dean?" he called. No response came to him. He hurried over to the bathroom and the door was open and the room was dark. Worry was replaced with fear. Had the demon came while he had been sleeping across the hall and taken Dean and Sam? Surely the boys were cleaver enough not to allow that to happen. Bobby took off in a frantic search. The last place he landed was out in the yard. And there they were. They seemed to be engaged in a discussion and a demonstration of something.

For a moment, Bobby worried that the soul switching had been reversed, because both boys were dressed like they normally were. Sam's body wearing a button down shirt, with an interesting pattern, and a t-shirt underneath, pants clean and tidy, and hair brushed and slightly unkempt. Not to mention he was wearing another one of his short tan coats that looked like it had seen better days. Bobby had wondered from time to time where in the world Sam kept coming up with those tan coats because it seemed, to Bobby at least, that Sam inevitably bled all over those coats. Either there was a store that exclusively sold those coats or Sam took a lot of time and effort to get the blood out of them. But this was the first time since the switch that he had dressed like himself. Dean tended to dress his brother in darker colors and left the button down shirt open. Dean didn't wear the tan coat.

On the other side of the brother coin, Dean's body was wearing a red button down, open, and a black t-shirt underneath. His amulet swung in the middle of his chest, and he was wearing a pair of denims that had holes in the knees and thighs. Like Sam, Dean had whipped out another coat and was wearing it to guard against the early morning South Dakota chill. However, unlike the last couple of days, the collar was flipped up in the back, making him look very much like himself. Also, Bobby realized that this was the first day that he had seen the amulet swinging freely on Dean's chest. Sam had kept the amulet underneath the shirt, probably because Sam wasn't used to wearing it and it bothered him.

"Dean?" Bobby called tentatively. Sam's body turned and gave a gentle smile at the old man.

"Yeah Bobby." He called.

"What are you two doing?" he demanded.

"Training."

"Training for what?"

"To be each other." Sam supplied. Bobby's face must have expressed his confusion because Sam began to elaborate. "First lesson was dressing." Sam explained. "I wasn't dressing Dean's body like Dean does and he wasn't dressing my body the way I do. That was lesson number one. I think we did pretty well on that one don't you think?"

"Yeah." Bobby drug a hand through his beard trying to get his heart corralled back into his chest.

"Next lesson is walking." Dean supplied. "Sam told me I walk too heavy, and I told him He doesn't walk heavy enough. We're trying to correct the problem."

"I see." Bobby said a little uneasy. "Come on in and eat. Relearn how to walk later, you need food in your stomachs." Both boys nodded and followed the older man into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Bobby put the pancakes in front of Dean's body and the oatmeal in front of Sam's body.

"Okay, Sammy when you eat, you need to eat like someone is going to take your plate away from you before you finish." Sam nodded and put a little amount of syrup on his plate in order to dip his pancakes in it. "No, no, Sammy, you need to absolutely smother it in syrup and butter." Sam did as instructed and began shoving food into his mouth like he was a starving man that hadn't seen food in the last twenty years. Dean smiled.

It was like that the rest of the day. The boys were constantly educating the other one on how to walk, talk, act, eat—anything and everything they could think of that might give them away. They spent very little time in Bobby's company and very little time away from one another. The time in which the boys would go off into seclusion and be intimate with the other's thoughts and emotions was over. Now they were completely and utterly devoted to making sure every single nuance of their performances was perfect. It was with renewed vigor that the boys tackled this assignment.

Bobby watched the transformations with amazement. Day by day, meal by meal it became harder and harder to distinguish between the two brothers. Their faces were schooled into masks of normalcy. Dean's face, looked like Dean's face and not like Sam wearing a Dean mask. The eyes even took on the haunted, don't mess with me quality that Dean's usually had. He had wondered from time to time if the soul switching spell had worn off and they really and truly had returned to their original state. What really made Bobby uncomfortable was when he directed a question to the real Dean, who resided in Sam's body, Dean's body responded with an appropriate answer, usually followed with "Why are you looking at Sammy when you are talking to me?" It was almost like watching a person possessed. The boys had really gotten good at their little charade.

The only time during this week that they weren't "on" was when they were in the bedroom together getting ready for sleep. Dean, in Sam's body, still slept closest to the door, and the two of them spoke freely and discussed little changes that needed to be made in order for this to be more believable.

Bobby wasn't surprised to find "Sam" sitting in the kitchen the following morning researching. "Hey Bobby." He said with that hint of Texas drawl that Bobby assumed he had picked up in early childhood when they had lived there for a period of time.

"Whatcha doin' Sam?" he asked still uncomfortable calling Dean's soul by his brother's name.

"Looking for a hunt. Dean and I want to practice one more time before the final showdown."

"Sam wouldn't say showdown." Bobby said taking a sip of his coffee. "Sam" rolled hazel eyes in his direction and sighed.

"Anyway, I found some suspicious activity several hours away."

"What do you think it is?"

"Not sure, but I think it might be a nest of vampires."

"You boys ready for a nest of vampires?"

"We're always ready. Dad always made sure we were ready."

"Huh." Bobby said in thought. "Sam" was right. The Winchester brothers were always ready for a fight. "When might the two of you leave?" he asked a little uneasy about the boys going out.

"When Dean gets his shower and breakfast." "Sam" noted Bobby's look of concern and gave a slow easy, typically Sam, smile. "Well be back before time is up. Don't worry Bobby. We want to be here with you when it happens. Want you to make sure everything goes okay." Bobby wished he believed completely that this would end in their favor.


	26. Morgue

A/N _**Dean**_ Sam's soul in Dean's body

_**Sam**_Dean's soul in Sam's body

I so hope that makes this make sense! Enjoy!

_**Dean**_ finished drying his hair, brushing his teeth, and then quickly dressed and went downstairs and found _**Sam**_ at the computer, looking earnest and interested in what he was reading.

"Find anything?" he asked as he got a cup of coffee and sat down next to Bobby.

"Yeah, I think it is a possible vampire nest."

"Where?"

"Just across the border in Montana. It's a little back woods town."

"What makes you think vampire?"

"5 victims have been killed and their blood has been removed from the scene. I think the police are looking for blood pools somewhere, or a crazy psychopath with jars of blood in his refrigerator."

"Friggin police. They try to do our job and just screw it up." _**Dean**_ said and drained the last of his coffee. _**Sam **_ did his best not to snicker at the accuracy in which his brother had learned to play him. _**Dean**_ got up and put his coffee cup in the sink and turned to his brother. "You ready to go?"

"Just need to pack a few things, and I'm ready."

"Where do we need to go first?"

"The last body was found this morning so I think the local morgue."

"Sounds like a plan. Let's get moving."

"You boys are awful calm about this." Bobby observed. The brothers looked at one another and shrugged.

"No use sitting here and starring at the walls, gotta practice what we've learned. This is the test Bobby. If we can do this, we can fool a stupid demon." _**Dean**_ said.

"I don't know."

"Bobby we'll be fine." _** Sam**_ reassured. Bobby sighed and for the second time since their arrival at his home over a week and half ago, he watched the boys get into the car and leave for another hunt. He watched the Impala drive off and felt a sense of dread. They could handle a nest of vampires, they had done it before. But that was when there weren't other things occupying their thoughts. As the tail lights of the muscle car faded into the distance Bobby wondered if this is what it felt like to watch your sons go off to war.

The boys made it to the little backwoods town of Glory, Montana in good time. The two of them had done very little speaking, the most conversation they shared consisted of which exit to take and which way to turn. The two of them were locked up in their borrowed minds trying to remember every scrap of information the other had taught. Failure was not at option at this point; both realized that the last time they went on a hunt to "practice" it had been a joke. Neither was prepared for anything. Hell, Dean had almost yelled "Sam" when he had needed his brother. This time they were ready. They had been calling each other their body's name and were pretty good at responding to the name that corresponded to the body.

"Did you find the morgue?" _**Dean**_ asked looking away from the road for a brief second to look at his brother who switched papers and maps. He held the flashlight in the crook of his neck and looked through the papers.

"Yep." He said and adjusted the light. "On Beeker road. It's a little country lane about five miles out of town. It's an old farmhouse."

"Gotta love these back woods towns."

"Definitely makes it easier to break in." Finding the road wasn't difficult, finding the turn off to the house was more complicated. _**Dean**_ parked the car in the grass amongst trees to hide their arrival. The house was dark, except for a sign that was lit by the front porch that said "David Gruber MD"

"How do you think a doc goes from practicing on live bodies to practicing on dead ones?" _**Dean**_ asked.

"Well, I would guess, that when you live in a town as small as this and there isn't a city for hundreds of miles that you wear many hats."

"It was a rhetorical question stupid."

"Oh."

"Come on. Got the lock picks?"

"Course."

They did a cursory inspection of the house and decided that the owner wasn't home, _**Sam **_found the window leading to the make shift morgue that the little town had. They managed to get the window open with little trouble and stealthily entered the den of the dead. _**Dean**_ looked at his brother and sighed as they stood in front of the refrigerator.

"After you." He said.

"Why me?"

"I'm the oldest and you should do what I say."

"Fine. I'll open the stupid door, but you get to touch the body inside, because you are the oldest and the oldest should protect their vulnerable baby brother's from things like touching dead bodies."_** Dean**_ opened his mouth to protest when _**Sam**_ opened the door to the freezer and pulled the gurney out that contained the dead body. "There you go big brother." _**Sam**_ said with a smirk. Glaring at his brother, _**Dean**_ reached for the latex gloves that were sitting on a nearby table and put them on his hands. He threw the sheet off of the body and began looking for puncture wounds.

He checked the usual and most obvious places. There were no wounds on the neck, or the arms. Confused as to where the killer had taken the blood from he took the sheet further off the woman's body and finally found it. It was a slice on the femoral artery. The wound was neat and precise.

"She bled out here." _**Dean**_ pointed to the slice on her leg. _**Sam**_ looked where his brother was pointing.

"Looks like she was sliced open."

"Definitely not the work of a vampire."

"Work of a vampire that is trying to cover it's tracks maybe?"

"That is precisely what is going on." A woman's voice said from behind them. Both boys turned and had knives out in the time it took one to blink. _**Sam's**_ face went from one of fear to one of recognition and astonishment in a flash.

"Lenore." He said softly.


	27. Lenore

A/N _**Dean**_ Sam's soul in Dean's body

_**Sam**_Dean's soul in Sam's body

Lenore looked at the brothers and then cast a smile in _**Sam's **_ direction. "Sam." She said with warmth that neither brother had really expected a vampire to possess, even one like Lenore. She walked over to _**Sam**_and hugged him tightly for a moment. _**Dean**_ stiffened afraid that this was a trick to get close to his brother's neck.

"What's going on?" _** Sam**_ asked when Lenore let go of his neck.

"Well," she shrugged. "I really don't know. We suspected another nest had moved in, but we weren't really sure."

"Wait, you mean to tell me that you guys can't sense other vampires?" _**Dean **_asked suspiciously.

"No, actually we can't. I can sense my own nest mates, but I only know if another nest has moved in when they start leaving a trail of bloody corpses. I scan the obits and the newspapers just like you guys do."

"So, you have no idea where these guys are?" _** Dean **_asked. Lenore shook her head sadly. "Well if that isn't just friggin' great." _**Dean **_said and threw his hands up and sighed.

"This isn't exactly a picnic for us either. This nest could ruin our very existence here."

"Well, this nest can do a lot more damage than just run you out of your perfect little lives. They are killing people."

"But they are doing it to survive."

"You guys don't kill people to survive! Why do they have to?!" _**Dean **_said angrily.

"Guys!" _**Sam**_ said stretching his long arms in between the two contenders. "We are all here for the same purpose. We all want this nest of vampires out of the picture."

"Yeah, but if we have to ask these vampires nicely to leave the area I don't think it is going to happen. These guys only respond to one kind of force and that is of the steel persuasion." _**Dean**_ said pointedly to Lenore. There was a heartbeat where no one spoke or even moved. _** Sam **_looked from his brother to the vampire, both of which were engaged in a battle of wills. _**Sam **_realized that Lenore was as stubborn as any Winchester man.

"I agree that steel is the only way that we can stop these vampires." She said softly.

"Good. Then this will make this whole thing a whole hell of a lot easier." Lenore nodded and looked at _**Sam**_.

"Where do we start finding these guys?"

"Well, first we check out bars. Vampires usually go there…for whatever reason."

"Alcohol affects us differently. It is like a narcotic. Instead of dulling our senses it makes them sharper."

"Oh. Nice to know." _**Sam **_said making a mental note to write that down in his journal for future reference.

"So that does make sense. There is a bar just off of the highway. About 10 miles away. You still have that car?" she asked.

"Yeah." _**Dean**_ said slowly.

"Good. Let's go." Sam and Dean pushed the dead body back into its temporary resting place and closed the freezer, wiped down any finger prints that they may have left behind, and followed Lenore out of the window they had jimmied open. They walked towards the hidden Impala and Lenore turned towards_** Dean**_.

"I really like your car."

"Thanks." He said confused.

"When I was a teenager, the boy that took me to the prom drove a '67 Impala. It sure is a beautiful car. Holds a lot of great memories." She said wistfully. _**Dean**_ gave a slow smile that always spread across his face when anyone admired his baby. _**Dean**_ got into the car first and missed the exchange of knowing looks across the car. _**Sam**_ had to think about what that look really meant and then he remembered taking Lenore away from Gordon and the disaster that was taking place in the house her nest had called home. She had mentioned that she liked the car, and Sam had mentioned that the only sure way into his brother's good graces was to compliment the car. Apparently she had remembered and was trying very hard to make peace with his impossible brother.

Finding the bar didn't take much effort and they parked and went inside and were barely noticed. It was rather crowded for a bar this far out of the way. Lenore took _**Dean's**_ arm and _**Dean**_ being the consummate actor that he had learned to become over the years didn't even flinch as the dead flesh clutched his arm. _**Sam **_knew his place in this scenario, he went and found a table in order to watch the people having fun and drinking way more than was necessary. His job was to scope out the people and to decide if any of them were vampires. _**Dean **_and Lenore's job was to look like a happy couple and try to get information about the town's inhabitants.

_**Sam**_ watched the people flow in and out of the bar and drank his beer slowly. Not wanting to drink too fast and inebriate him in any way. All needed to be sharp and ready when they found the vampires. Occasionally he would watch _**Dean**_ and Lenore pretend to be the happy couple and talking with other couples and the owners of the establishment. To the untrained eye, it looked as if _**Dean**_ was enjoying a particularly fascinating conversation with the bar tender, but to the trained brother eye he noted that _**Dean**_ had found out some critical information. _**Sam **_finished his beer, left the money on the table and left the bar. He was sitting in the Impala waiting when the happy couple emerged from the bar. They kept up the charade until they were to the car and they dropped hands as if they were on fire. The doors squeaked and both were inside. _**Dean **_started the car and Lenore gave directions to where she and her nest were currently living.

"What did you find out?" _**Sam **_asked.

"Well, we found out that there is this real rowdy group of people that always come in together, and they come in just about every night."

"They weren't there tonight." _**Sam **_offered.

"No they weren't." Lenore supplied. "They are probably hunting."

"Then how to do we find them before someone else is killed?" _**Sam **_asked.

"Dude, you are the one with a college degree that is your job."

"I'm not a mind reader!"

"No, but you did have those visions, see if you can whip one of those into action."

"Come on. You know that's not how it works and you know that I haven't had a vision since we killed the Yellow Eyed Demon." _**Sam **_simmered in the backseat. "Do we even know what these vampires look like?"

"Pointy teeth Sam." _**Dean**_ said sarcastically.

"Dean, be serious."

"Well, what are they supposed to look like? I mean Lenore here looks like everyone else. Why should these guys be any different?"

"So basically, we know nothing more than when we went into that stupid bar."

"We know that the vampires are definitely in town." Lenore said as she gazed out the window watching the world pass her by. "They can't stay. I'll tell my family what is going on. We will be able to cover more ground that way."

"I'm not too sure how your family is going to like working with hunters." _**Dean**_ said.

"They probably won't like the idea of working with you. But they met your brother and they know that he has a kind heart and will do whatever he can to protect us and get us the help we need. And since he trusts you they will give you their guarded trust."

"Gee thanks." Lenore shrugged her shoulders.

"You get what you give." She said softly. From the backseat Dean's soul thought that over. If that was true, then what exactly did he do that warranted him to be in the position that he was in.

"So, tomorrow night, we pick you up?" _**Dean **_asked.

"Yes. Please. If you find any information…"

"We will definitely share it."

"Thank you." Lenore said as _**Dean **_stopped the car. She got out, gave the boys a small smile and headed into the house.


	28. Vampire Nest Destroyed

A/N _**Dean**_ Sam's soul in Dean's body

_**Sam**_Dean's soul in Sam's body

Sam and Dean wasted no time gloating over the fact that Lenore had bought their charade hook line and sinker. She had bought every ounce of it and she knew them, on a personal level, not on the-I-want-to-murder-the-Winchester-brothers-for-giggles level that most of the supernatural community knew them. There would be time for breaking character and gloating after this whole mess was over, vampires caught and taken care of, and deal broke and returned to their bodies.

They slept for a few hours, just enough to keep their minds sharp but not enough to waste daylight. _**Sam**_ went to the local bookstore and purchased a map of the area and the two of them sat at their tiny motel desk and put together a map of all of the recent deaths.

"_**Sam**_ there is no discernable pattern. They are all over the place." _**Dean**_ threw his pencil down on the map and ran a hand down the length of his face. "This is not going to be easy."

"Since when is any hunt we participate in?" _**Sam**_ asked as he straddled a chair and looked at his brother and the map. "Is there a shape to the killings?"

"Shape?"

"Yeah, like a pentagram, a letter, or number, or even a square or something?"

"Kinda like that Zoroastrian symbol and Meg."

"Exactly." _**Dean**_ picked the pencil back up and starred at the dots on the map, trying to play a supernatural version of connect the dots. He eventually made some light hesitant lines on the map. He looked up at his brother slowly, eyes squinted in thought. "You know, vampires were people before they were turned. Why in the world would you make a patter except to get caught?"

"Good question." They both sighed. "I guess we are back to square one." _** Sam **_sighed and stretched his long arms above his head, standing he stretched his back and began to pace a little. "Is it limited to one county?" _**Dean**_ looked back down at the map and most of his dots were in the same county.

"All but three."

"Okay. So how far into this county are the dots?"

"They are all through this county."

"So that excludes them living in a different county and coming into this one to do the damage." 

"True. The one county that they seem to be straying into is the one that is closest."

"Good. So, now, we've talked to the local bar owner, and he said what?"

"He said that there is a rowdy bunch that comes in almost every single night."

"How many bars are there in the local area?" _**Dean**_ shook his head. _**Sam**_ grabbed his laptop, and opened it, waited for it to turn on and he looked in the internet white pages. "Looks like the next bar is twenty miles away." He said looking up from the screen. "They must be in the area."

"Freaking needle in a haystack." _**Dean **_muttered.

"I know. I guess now we wait for Lenore."

They restlessly waited for nightfall and then as soon as there was a knock on their door they jumped up and grabbed weapons. Just because it was a knock at the door, didn't mean that what was on the other side was friendly.

_**Dean,**_ holding his gun cocked at the ready, opened the door a fraction of an inch and when he saw it was Lenore he put the safety back on and opened it all of the way. She entered briskly and gave a small smile of greeting to _**Sam**_.

"What have the two of you found?" she asked

"Well, all we can tell is that they are in this county. Probably within a 20 mile radius of the bar."

"Why do you assume 20 miles?"

"Because 20 miles away is the next closest bar." She nodded taking in the information.

"Looks like we need to start talking to people about houses being bought or sold by a large group of people."

"I put calls out to people today." _**Sam**_ said.

"Good."

"Then I guess tonight, my nest and I need to "sniff" around." She said with a smile and turned to leaved. "I'll call you guys if I find anything-"

"And we'll call if we find anything." _**Sam**_ confirmed.

And that conversation launched the next week's worth of searching. Sam and Dean would find a lead, look around as much as possible, and if they thought that maybe that the vampires could be in there they called Lenore and they went at night. Trial and error became their new best friends. The brother's Winchester were a little concerned that the other nest would figure out they were gunning for them and move out of the area, Lenore, however, reassured them that it took a lot of planning to get an entire nest coordinated and moved out of an area, and if the nest they were looking for tried it, they would most certainly know about it.

It was on a Saturday, beginning the last full week of Dean's life, when they found the nest. It was Sunday, when vampires in conjunction with the Winchesters beheaded over 20 vampires; it was Monday morning that they nursed their wounds and received a thank you and a good bye from Lenore and her nest. It was Monday night that they were back on the road to Bobby's house.

Riding in the Impala had always been a sedative for Sam. When they were growing up, he never slept well in the cheep motel rooms, or at Bobby's, or Pastor Jim's or even Caleb's. However, put him in the Impala and he could sleep, and sleep well, for days. When he had gone to Stanford, after the first few weeks of being there he had learned how to sleep well in his bed, and then learned how to sleep well in a bed with Jessica, however, when he had gotten back on the road with his brother sleeping in the old '67 Chevy put him right out just like it had when he was a kid. Dean had never said anything, always turned the music down when he slept, had even put his coat over him, turned the heater up and pointed them at him, always keeping him warm and comfortable.

Sam had always thought that if the tables were turned he would have been aggravated that he was in a car with someone and they slept. He always thought that driving for 8 hours at a time with your passenger dead to the world would be boring. However, when he looked over at his own body curled up sleeping against the car door, he realized that Dean didn't mind. He looked at it like he was finally able to provide something that relaxed his little brother, he was finally able to do something to ease his brother's troubles.

Sam snickered inside Dean's head and took another look at his own body curled up against the door. It looked incredibly uncomfortable, what was weird, was that it wasn't. He was always comfortable sleeping with his head against the cool glass. Flashes of the first weeks after they had been reunited flittered in Dean's head. Accompanying the images were tinges of emotion, worry, guilt, love, and fear. Dean had worried that his brother wouldn't ever be able to get over the love of his life's death, worried that he didn't know his little brother anymore, worried that he wasn't doing all that he could to help his brother, guilt over the fact that he was happy that Sam was at his side again, guilt over pulling his baby brother out of his perfect safe life and making him go out on a hunt with him again, guilt for Jessica's death—Dean was fairly certain that it was his fault that things happened the way they did, love for a little brother who had grown up so much while he had been away, and fear that the demon was targeting his family and that his brother would be next, and fear as to what he would do if his little brother would be killed.

It always turned back to that: what would Dean do if everyone abandoned him? Sam had realized earlier in the week that one of the only reasons he worried about going to Hell was that he was going to be alone. No one would ever join him in Hell, and Dean was fairly certain that that was going to be his pain and fear. Dean knew if the demons and the devil wanted to destroy him all they had to do was make him relive that day in Cold Oak every day for eternity.

'Don't worry Dean, that won't happen. I promise.' Sam thought and pressed down on the accelerator.


	29. Demon

_**Dean**_Sam's soul in Dean's body

_**Sam**_Dean's soul in Sam's body

Bobby greeted the boys as they walked in the house. Bobby fussed in his own gruff way over the two of them. He fed them and then sent them to bed, saying that they looked like they had been rode hard and put up wet. Dean had to admit that he liked being fussed over, it made him feel loved. It had been a long time since he had allowed him to feel love. He gave love easier than he gave death to supernatural creatures, but he had the hardest time accepting love from others. He had tucked his heart away because when it had been out and on display it had only gotten beat up and harmed worse than physical wound. Sam's leaving, Sam's death, their father leaving, their father's death, their mother's death, all of that had hurt him so badly that he had at one point contemplated suicide, and in a sense he supposed that he had actually done just that. He had made a deal that in essence would allow him to kill himself without ever raising a weapon to his own body. In a way, Dean knew it was the cowards way out, suicide, and he had managed to find the most yellow bellied coward's way out of his own misery. He could dress it up, disguise it, call it whatever he liked. He had, at one point, even convinced himself that he had done it for Sam. Truth of the matter was it was the only way he could get the peace that he had so desired after their father had died saving him.

The last week of his life was spent sitting on the porch with his brother and Bobby telling stories about the past. They dropped the charade of acting like one another and shared amusing tales of their childhood, mishaps on hunts that hadn't been funny at the time but now when the peril was removed were quite humorous to recount to Bobby. Sam told them about college and Jessica, because he could finally mention her without wanting to cry and it felt good to tell others about how wonderful she had been and how much he missed her. Dean, since he had been residing in his brother's mind for a couple of weeks now knew just how much his brother had loved the pretty blond and how much she had meant to him.

However, as the day of reckoning came to a close both brothers became quiet and locked into their respective borrowed minds. Each was trying to draw on the strengths of the other to get them through this disaster. Bobby watched each of them as they gave each other secret glances that he was fairly certain was their way of ascertaining if the other was doing all right.

The last night of Dean's life was upon them and it played out exactly how it would have if Dean had been residing in his own body. _**Dean**_ got up and left a note for his brother and Bobby left his ring, amulet, watch, bracelet, and keys to the Impala on the nightstand. _**Sam**_ pretended to sleep through this and watched as his brother left the room and headed towards the nearest crossroads.

When the sun rose over the horizon _**Dean**_ and Bobby pretended to be panicked and took the Impala and drove around the country side pretending to look for **_Sam_**. As day gave way to night they finally drove in the direction of the cross roads. They found him standing there waiting for the final showdown between man and demon.

"Dean!" _**Sam **_shouted and slammed the car door shut. _**Dean**_ turned to face his brother. "What the hell do you think you are doing? Leaving a note that says 'Love you. Be safe.' How dare you let me waste my last day…" he choked up. "My last day with my big brother."

"Sammy. Go back to Bobby's."

"No."

"Go. You don't need to see this."

"I may not want to see it but I have to." _**Dean**_ hung his head in defeat.

He spread his arms wide and took a step closer to his little brother. "And why do you have to watch a demon come and rip my soul out of my body? Why do you need to do that?"

"Because if you could sell your soul for mine then I should be able to see the consequences."

"Sammy." _**Sam**_ raised a hand and stopped his brother from talking.

"I don't' want to fight. That is how I spent my last moments with Dad and I don't want to do the same with you."

"I see at least one Winchester is learning from past mistakes." Came a woman's voice. All three men turned and saw the cross roads demon, wearing a brunette's face, smiling maliciously at them. "Couldn't get your brother out of the deal, huh Sammy?" she said using his nick name as a jibe.

"You bitch." _**Sam**_ said with malice.

"Ohh….strong words for someone who is about to have his life ripped out from underneath him." She chuckled.

"Come on. Just get this over with." _**Dean**_ said.

"Ohhhh…what no tearful goodbyes?" she asked. _**Dean**_ looked directly into _**Sam's**_ eyes and gave the barest hints of a nod.

"Just get it over with." _**Dean**_said harshly. "Leave my brother alone." He said tiredly.

"Fine. If you want your miserable life over with so much…." She trailed off and just as she had sealed the deal she took his life. She put her mouth on his and to the outsider it looked like she was kissing him, but to _**Sam**_ she was sucking his soul out of his mouth. She let him go and _**Dean's**_ body fell lifeless onto the dirt. The demon smiled and wiped her mouth. _**Sam**_ fell to the ground with his brother's lifeless body and he was so horrified that he wasn't able to form tears.

"That was definitely yummy. See ya around Winchester." She said and laughed as she disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.


	30. We Meet

"_**Sam!**_" Bobby encouraged when he was certain that the demon was gone. "Come on boy get up."

"I…I…" he stumbled. Dean's soul was having a hard time coming to grips with watching his baby brother's soul be ripped from his corporeal husk and taken by a smug demon. Twice now he had watched his brother die, and it most certainly wasn't getting ANY easier. Bobby grabbed _**Sam**_ underneath the arms and forced him upright, and whispered in his ear. "The plan." That made him stand a little straighter and try to keep his emotions in check. He wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve and helped Bobby pick up the body of Dean Winchester, which was both horrifying and strangely comforting. They hauled it back to the Impala and Bobby took the keys from _**Sam**_ and he drove them back to his salvage yard.

Bobby watched Dean in Sam's body glance back to his own body laying lifeless in the back seat. The expression on Sam's face didn't match the soul peeking out from borrowed eyes.

"You okay son?" Bobby asked.

"Let me think." He said sarcastically. "My body is dead in the back seat and my brother is currently in hell for me. Yeah, I think I'm perfectly okay." If it hadn't been such a dire situation Bobby might have chuckled at how Dean that comment was. But right at the moment Bobby knew that all charades were off. The man in the seat next to him may look like Sam Winchester, but it was definitely Dean Winchester, from the protective glances he shot back at the body in the back to the worried tension around the eyes. It was all Dean.

When they arrived at the house they grabbed the body and hurriedly took it into the kitchen. Bobby had taken his freezer from outside and emptied it of all of the meat that had been inside. When the brothers commented that he was wasting a lot of very good food, Bobby had shrugged them off and informed them that keeping Dean's body preserved was way more important that keeping some dead cow parts preserved for the future. Both Sam and Dean had looked at one another and shrugged. Bobby realized later that the two of them never really wasted food. When they were kids, Bobby had watched Dean make sure Sam ate everything, and he had heard a whisper from Dean telling Sam that it may be a while before they get food this good again. And Bobby then realized that even the adult Winchesters looked at food as something to be cherished and not so readily thrown away.

Once they were in the kitchen, Dean let go of his body's legs carefully and opened up the freezer that was nothing more than a rectangular box that sat on the floor and opened from the top. The freezer had been dirty until yesterday when the three of them had scrubbed it down when Dean had said "I'm not laying my carcass in something filthy, you know; don't want to damage the goods." It had made them laugh and eased a fraction of the nervousness they all were feeling. Now Dean and Bobby laid Dean's body into the freezer, bending his knees so he would fit, and closed the lid. They looked at each other and nodded. The next part of the plan was ready to commence.

&&&&&&

Never once had Sam really sat down and wondered what it felt like to have your soul separated from your body, but now that he had experienced it, he realized that it felt something like the air being sucked out of your lungs and then pressed right back in. It had been fast, it had hurt, and it really and truly had scared the shit out of him. He looked down at his hands, not totally sure if he would still resemble a human being, and when he looked down he did in fact find hands but he found his brother's hands, not his own. Sam smiled to himself. He must still look like Dean and if that is the case then he can use it to his own advantage. Sam reveled for a brief second at just how well he was playing the part of his brother that he could go to hell and his soul still look like his brother.

He looked around at his surroundings for a moment. He had expected to see fire and hear people screaming in agony and despair, but none of the tired and true décor was present. The room was entirely black except for what seemed to be a spotlight that followed his movements. It reminded him of a security camera and he had a moment's humor at the thought of there being security cameras in Hell. Sam was just beginning to wonder if Dean's version of hell would be that he was alone in a dark room with no one to save, no one to protect, and no one to talk to. With a cocked eyebrow he realized that that particular scenario would probably be exactly what Dean would consider hell.

Just as he was turning around and surveying his surroundings a demon, a relatively pretty red headed demon, stepped into the spotlight. She said nothing as she sauntered closer to him and when she was within range she grabbed his arm roughly by the bicep. Sam took a second to note that he still felt like he had a body. That was definitely something he hadn't expected. Granted, he didn't exactly think he would float around hell, but still the appearance and the feel of a body wasn't exactly what he was thinking.

"Come on Winchester. This is no time to be shy. You are among friends," she said sarcastically with a sinister laugh.

"Shy? Who me?" he said cockily, playing the role of his brother. He jerked his arm out of the demon's grasp. She gave him a dirty look and he gave her a smile in return. He would not be drug around like an animal. As soon as the thought crossed his mind a collar and a leash appeared around his neck and in her hand. She grinned.

"You will be escorted like an animal since you are unable to handle having your arm touched." He took a deep breath and silently cursed his cockiness.

He was led straight ahead for sometime, the only way he knew that he had actually progressed was the by the décor. The black gave way to red brick that looked as if it had been molded with human blood. After the brick came what appeared to be a forest. However, it wasn't like any forest he had ever seen. The trees were gnarled and blackened as if they had all been struck by one hell of an electrical storm. As they walked through the forest he smelled ozone and felt the familiar prickle of a spirit. Then he realized that the vines that were encasing the trees were moving by their own volition. Each vine was covered with thick heavy spikes, they were too large to call them thorns, and they were something akin to the steaks he and Dean had made to kill the trickster.

He looked up, because only hunters of the supernatural knew that deadlier things could come from the air, and he saw nothing but blackness and that spot light that had been with him since he had arrived moved with him and illuminated just enough of the forest to scare and intimidate, and he supposed that was exactly the reason for it.

"Not that I don't love this kinky walk that we are on. But where exactly are we going bitch?" An invisible force came and struck his face and he felt blood dripping down his chin and neck. Now he understood exactly why he still had a "body." They wanted to be able to torture him and be able to reassemble him and do it over again. From experience, Sam knew that the wounds on his face were deep enough to require stitches and would still probably leave one hell of a nasty scar.

"Now you see what you made me go and do." She said as she stopped and put her finger inside one of the wound and pressed. He did everything in his power not to scream but was unsuccessful, she laughed as he screamed, and with each scream she pushed her finger deeper into the wound. He was fairly certain that she had reached bone. He fell to his knees screaming wildly and she fell with him wiggling her finger in the wound, and his mind was certain that she was never going to stop.

"Ezza! Stop! He is not yours to torture." The red head stopped wiggling her finger and slowly slid it out of his ruined flesh. She stuck her finger in her mouth and sucked it clean like a kid with a spoon covered in brownie batter. Sam turned to the source of the sound and forced his eyes open and saw a dark figure, he couldn't see the face of who it was, but he did take note that the forest had been replaced with a red room which seemed to be some sort of demonic court. The red headed demon, Ezza, bowed to the obviously more powerful demon.

"I apologize. It was just too much to resist."

"Take her." The man said simply and two bigger male demons went for her. Her eyes went wild and she immediately tried to run but the two male demons were faster and stronger and each one grabbed her underneath an arm and drug her kicking from the room. Sam took a second to note that her voice had been muted, as if someone had just clicked the mute button on the television. Her mouth and face were contorted in such a way to indicate that she was screaming, but there definitely was no sound. Sam, shook, turned to the man shrouded in darkness. Sam's face tingled and he reached a hand up and touched the cheek that had been ripped to shreds and found it intact once more. He watched his hand on it's way down to ensure that it was still Dean's hand and to see if it came away dry. Both were true.

"Finally, Dean Winchester, we meet."


	31. Ghost Seer

Dean ran a hand through his brother's hair and sighed. This had been the longest most stressful afternoon of his life. Night had just fallen, he and Bobby had drawn the necessary materials on the floor of Bobby's living room, had collected the necessary oils and materials for the ritual. Now they were waiting for Bobby's friend Nick to come.

Nick was someone who could see spirits. He could essentially sense their essence, detect their signature, because according to Bobby every one of us had a sort of smell (Bobby's words when Dean wasn't able to understand what exactly he meant. Dean was fairly certain that if each spirit had a scent, his would smell like grease and his brother's would smell like one of those froo froo coffees he had developed a liking for in college.) and that smell was the way that Nick was able to locate the spirit. They needed the scent of Sam's spirit so they could find the demon that had taken him so they could call up the demon and get Sam back into this world, unscathed. Dean was more concerned with the unscathed portion of this exercise than any other part of this plan. It was bad enough his brother had gone to Hell in his place, but it was another all together if they hurt him irrevocably while he was down there. Dean was fairly certain he would never be able to look at himself the same way again if Sam came back damaged.

"Bobby where is this guy?" Dean asked impatiently.

"He'll be here."

"The longer he takes the worse things could be getting for Sammy."

"Dean…he's hurrying." Dean stood and started pacing the small room.

"I swear to God if something happens to him and he doesn't come back right Bobby I will kill you for doing this to us." Dean ran a hand through his brother's hair and sighed. "It should be me down there. I should be the one suffering. It was my deal, I should pay for it."

"Would you stop that." Dean looked up at Bobby. "You act like you are the only one with feelings. Your brother has suffered more because of this deal than you will ever know. I have spoken to Sam just about every day this year, sometimes three or four times. Never a minute goes by with…"

"Without him thinking about saving me. Without him thinking about how lonely he would be without me there. Without him wondering who is going to watch his back and protect him. Wondering who is going to be there to kill him if his destiny ever comes to pass or what will happen to him when there is no one left who understands him. Yeah Bobby I know exactly what goes through his freakish brain. I don't need you to remind me."

"Then, I don't understand why you keep saying that you should be the one down in the pit if you know exactly how Sam feels about the situation."

"I'm still his big brother Bobby. I'm still the one who is supposed to sacrifice things for his happiness."

"Says who?"

"It's in the rule book."

"What rule book?"

"The one…"

"Your father laid out for you?" Dean shrugged and avoided eye contact, a sure sign that Bobby had hit upon the truth. "Well you know as well as I do, your father wasn't exactly thinking straight when you two were kids, and you know that your brother wants more out of life for you than just protecting him."

"I know that. But, Bobby, I don't like other people paying for my choices."

"Your brother is willing to…"

"Go to Hell and back for me, yeah, I kinda got that." Dean stopped and ran a hand down his brother's long face. "Where the hell is he?" he muttered under his breath.

Sam gave the demon his best cocky grin. "Glad to know I'm popular." The demon stood from his throne and the other surrounding demons that had been laying all over him, Sam assumed they were the Hell equivalent to prostitutes, were forced to move and they watched him with a hunger that Sam hadn't seen before. Their whole bodies looked to be consumed with the need to have this being in their grasp. He had a brief second to wonder if their punishment for disobedience would be to be barred from their master's touch.

"Popular isn't exactly the word I would use. Well know is more like it. A celebrity if you will. We've been waiting for you." He repeated at stepped from his dais.

"So I've gathered."

"It was so kind of you to offer your soul to us. We had a much more elaborate and bloody plan to get you down here, but well, volunteering yourself worked out so much better."

"Why are you so eager to have me here? Need me to liven up the place? You really need to call your interior decorator, maybe a pale blue—" The demon was in his face with his hand around his neck silencing his smart assed reply in a mere instant.

"You never shut up do you?" Sam, knowing his brother, smirked.

"You wanted the package."

"I wanted Sam's protector dead. Because with you dead, well, we can claim Sam. He is very special to us Dean." Sam kept his mouth shut. The demon removed his had from his neck and walked a little ways away from Sam. "Sam is the one who needs to be out there leading our demons against the good citizens of the world."

"Sammy won't do that. He'd rather die."

"Quite possibly, but really, dead or alive works. A couple of weeks down here and we can strip his soul of any kind of humanity he once had and make him full demon."

"Full demon?"

"Oh Dean, he didn't tell you that he had demon blood in him." He looked at the face Sam was currently wearing; Sam was making it a point to look shocked. "Oh this gets better and better with each passing second." The demon's smirk was twisted and ugly. It was like the story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the demon had the air of deformity, but the smile had nothing truly malevolent about it, perhaps Stevenson had seen Hell before he had written that particular tale. "Oh, Old Yellow Eyes, that's what you call him isn't it? Well, he infused ol' Sammy with demon blood, killed his mother, and then took his girlfriend all to get him alone. You were our only obstacle. And, Jake, love that guy, he forced your hand and here you are and Sammy is up there alone in his grief. Grief that will inevitably twist his soul and twist him far enough that it will make it so much easier for a demon, a very persuasive demon, to make him bend to our will. Perhaps we will even dangle you in front of him."

"What?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Oh Dean, Dean, we will be stripping you of your humanity very soon. First, we want to torture you for a while for being such a pain in our ass."

Dean threw open the door when the ghost seer knocked, Dean had actually be standing less than ten inches from the door pacing. The moment the man, Nick, saw Dean he stepped back a little.

"Your soul is misplaced."

"No shit Sherlock." Dean opened the door a little wider and allowed the man admittance.

"You know about this misplacement?"

"Yeah. Bobby kinda did it to me and my brother."

"You are one of the Winchesters." He said with a quiet awe.

"What do you know?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"I know that today was the day of reckoning for Dean."

"Yeah," Dean sighed. "Tell me about it."

"You're Dean?"

"Yes."

"Sam's body?"

"Yes." Bobby came out of the kitchen and saw the two men locked into a gaze.

"Nick?"

"Just talking with Dean." Nick turned to his long time friend. "Something tells me you want the one in Hell located."

"Yes. I want him located and want the name of the demon who took him."

"That is going to be difficult. The demon has to have touched him." Dean chuckled.

"That won't be hard. Demons tend to get grabby when they are pissed."

"You think your brother has pissed it off?" Dean clapped the man on the shoulder. The ease of the gesture was belied by the intensity of the eyes.

"Dude, my brother has been impersonating me. I think the only reason that the demons haven't come topside to get me is because they think they actually have me." Nick nodded is head.

"I assume you have…um…your body?" Dean nodded and they led the man to the freezer in the kitchen and opened it. Dean couldn't look inside and see his lifeless body. It had been weird enough putting it in the freezer; he seriously didn't want to look at it again. The next time he saw his face, he wanted to be wearing it. Nick glanced at Dean for a moment before kneeling and putting a hand on the corpse's shoulder. He felt the intensity of Sam's soul and smiled. "You're brother has a very distinctive soul."

"Does it have 'pain in the ass' on it anywhere." Nick smiled.

"You're nervous."

"Damn right I'm nervous. Let's get this over with." Nick nodded and stood. Bobby put the lid back down on the freezer and they went into Bobby's living room, and Nick sat down on the hard wood floor and took a deep breath. Dean knelt down next to him and Bobby stood behind. Nick's eyes fluttered shut and he left t his world to look for Sam in Hell.

"Maybe if I'm such a pain in the ass you shouldn't have brought me here."

"Oh no Dean, my boy, watching you break will be a pleasure. Then there are others that would like a little revenge." Sam was trying desperately to think of a come back as the demon stepped closer to him. Sam suddenly felt something press into his back. Sam figured that his torture was starting, it hurt, it felt like a hand was reaching into his body and trying to find his heart. The hand retreated and like mist swirling around him, his Dean disguise was broken, and the demon's face fell.


	32. Back in Black

The demon's face fell only for a moment. As soon as he saw Sam Winchester appearing out of the mist he smiled, a crewel and evil smile. "This is even better." He said in low tones. Sam gave him a questioning glance. "You are the Winchester we are all after. We've been waiting for you."

"Like I would come to you."

"That we knew. We also knew that you were too grounded in doing the "right" thing and being a "good" person for us ever to actually win you over." The demon said using air quotes. Sam's terrified brain had a second to realize that it was really weird seeing a demon use air quotes. "You see, we didn't bank on your brother raising you. We figured your father would go off the deep end, drink himself silly, or even if he did go into the hunting world, train you and your brother into being mindless heartless soldiers. What we really and truly didn't bank on was your four year old brother stepping up to the plate and raising you. Then once we saw him doing it, we scoffed, figured that he would do a bang up job and you would turn out to be some money hungry womanizing lout. Never once did we assume he would do a good job. So, then, when we realized that you would never come into our clutches willingly we decided to go after the man who had raised you. Your father facilitated the events just as we anticipated. Your father was nothing if not predictable. 

"We figured with your brother out of the way we could get you broken enough that we could get you to lead our army and do it the right way. Cold and calculated. That's how we wanted you. We knew there was no way in the world you would make a deal for anyone's soul, so we knew we weren't going to get you down here. So, we figured that we could get Dean to at least sell his soul for you and then well, we would make you nuts with trying to save him and then ultimately when you were unable to do anything to save your brother from the proverbial pit, and when you were forced to watch hell hounds come for your brother, the only family you had left, and see them tear your brother's soul screaming out of his body, that you would break and then it would only be a matter of time before we could convince you to join our legions." The demon looked smug. He looked like their plan would have worked no matter what. Fury bubbled up from Sam's stomach and ran through his veins making him feel as if he were on fire. How dare this evil son of a bitch dare to suppose that he knew him well enough that this would work.

"So, you knew that Dean would come to exchange his soul for mine?"

"Of course we knew. Yellow Eyes did his job well."

"What in heavens name do you mean by that?" Sam spat.

"Well, we had our little yellow eyed demon family plant some self doubt into your brother's thick skull. We were all a little surprised at just how easy it would really and truly be to cause so much self doubt with just a few well placed words. Then again, your brother seems to have quite a bit of self loathing without our help. Your father didn't exactly win any father of the year trophies in regards to your brother. Then well, we knew what Jake would do. Why do you think we picked that spot?"

"Most haunted."

"That was just an added bonus. Really, it was close to a cross roads." Sam's scalp tingled with the realization.

"You orchestrated the whole thing?"

"Oh most definitely."

"You gave him a year."

"A year to torture you with. Just the idea of loosing your brother and not being able to do ANYTHING about it. What did that do to you? Oh wait. I know. It forced you to switch your soul into your brother's body. Pretty desperate Sam." The demon laughed. 

"It was a pleasure." Sam said defiantly.

"I found him." Nick said as his eyes snapped back open. 

"Is he okay?" Dean demanded with worried eyes.

"I don't know that much."

"Has the demon touched him?" Bobby asked.

"Yes. Get ready." Nick licked his lips. "This is one hell of a strong demon. He isn't going to die without a fight." Bobby looked to Dean who nodded slightly and the three of them went to work preparing to trap and kill one hell of a major demon and to get Dean's body ready to have his brother reside in it again. 

Devil traps were drawn, reinforced and bedding was prepared. After what seemed like an awesome amount of time they finished their preparations and Nick sat in the middle of the devil's trap. Dean held the knife that Nick had given him in his hands and looked it over. Dean had questioned how this knife was going to be of any use to him. Nick had told him about its demon killing history, but the trick was to get close enough to the demon in order to kill it---it had to be a blow to the heart. Nick had said that he was fairly certain that Dean had enough courage to get up and close with the demon that held his contract and he was even more certain that Dean could hold his own enough to kill the thing. Dean hoped that this man's faith was not misplaced. Dean looked at it again before stuffing it in the waist band of his jeans right in the center of his spine.

"You ready?" Nick asked both Bobby and Dean. Nodding simultaneously, nick nodded once in acknowledgement and set to work calling the demon into the circle. It took significantly less time and significantly less blood than the three had figured. Bobby had been ready to kill as many chickens as he could to get this to work. He wanted both Winchesters safe and back in the realm of the living. Dean's deal had scared Bobby more than anything else had in a long time. Well, more than anything since his wife had died. 

There were significantly less pyrotechnics than Bobby and Dean had figured. Instead of the lights and wind whirl of the movies, a shadow formed against the wall as if it were midday. The shadow was long and ominous. The shadow then pulled itself off of the wall and turned into something vaguely man shaped. Bobby thought briefly that the demon hadn't been topside in so long that he didn't really know how to make himself look human anymore. 

The look on the face was perfectly readable. The demon was pissed. He looked at Dean and snarled.

"Oh. You have summoned me to right the deal." The demon smiled. "You really are as honorable as they say Dean." He said honorable like some said filth.

"I'm not giving up my soul. I'm not that stupid."

"But, Dean, your brother is down there suffering in your stead. You can live with that?" Every single fiber in the body he inhabited told Dean not to give in to the devil's taunts. He held fast to his spot. 

"I don't buy that bull."

"It's true."

"I think you need to give me my brother back."

"I think not."

"It wasn't his soul you were after."

"And you aren't offering yours in its stead."

"But he wasn't part of the deal."

"Yes, actually, he was."

"What in the hell are you talking about?"

"It was said that if you didn't fulfill your end of the bargain that your brother would drop dead. And well. He did." The demon laughed. Dean felt his stomach jump amongst his lungs and he thought for a moment and just how correct the demon in fact was. He had only one card to play now and he sure as hell hoped that it worked. "Plus, it was really him we wanted in the first place. You really and truly aren't worth our time." Dean allowed tears to come to his eyes. He looked at Bobby and Bobby knew exactly what he was going to do.

"No son, you can't."

"I can't let Sam suffer for me."

"Dean." 

"Don't." he said and held a hand up to stop Bobby's speech. Dean looked at the demon and stepped forward. "Take me."

"Why would I want to take you? I have what I want."

"Because Winchester brothers together are stronger than separate. We've always fought on the same team, and we should be doing it together in hell if we have to." The demon snarled and Dean assumed that was the closest the thing could come to a smile these days. The demon knew how right Dean was. Sam would become so much more compliant if his brother was there urging him to go in the "right" direction.

"No. Dean don't do it." Bobby said gravely.

"I'm not leaving Sam. I'm not allowing Sam to suffer for a choice I made."

"Dean…" Dean shrugged his brother's massive shoulders and gave Bobby a sad smile. 

"I know. Me too Bobby. But…" he paused looked at his borrowed feet for a moment and then back to Bobby's sad face. "But he's my brother."

"And how is your brother going to feel…"

"We've had this conversation Bobby. I am going to do this. Thank you for everything." He reached over and hugged Bobby tight.

"Awww. How touching. Can we hurry this along?" The demon snickered from behind Dean. It took everything Dean had to keep from saying something very colorful and not particularly flattering to the demon behind him. But Sam's brain, that held a lot more logical reasoning than his did sometimes, said that if he made trouble for the demon he would probably suffer a whole lot more than if he just let it go. So, Dean, taking a page out of Sam Winchester's book, kept his mouth shut, finished hugging the man who had acted like a father to him and turned to face the demon. He knew he gave the demon cold eyes and he wasn't sorry. Moving forward he scratched the chalk outline with his boot and stepped inside the circle.

"I'm all yours." The demon was giddy, if demons could get giddy. Dean moved closer to the demon and he put his hand on Dean's borrowed chest, and leaned into him and Dean felt his soul begin to be pulled from the body he had been inhabiting. 

However, being a Winchester, and being stubborn, and being a natural born liar were things that this demon just hadn't anticipated. If the demon thought he was going to get both Winchester brothers without so much as a fight than he was the dumbest demon Dean had ever come across. Dean reached behind and pulled the knife out of his jeans and plunged it deep into the demon. The demon jerked back and the pyrotechnics began full throttle. Lights, smoke you name it, it happened around the demon and for a split second Dean saw amazement in the demon's black pits. Dean smirked. That is what a demon got for believing that a Winchester would go easily into hell and stay there. When the demon had been killed and the air was surprisingly less thick and the hint of sulfur that had been in the air dissipated. Dean looked to Bobby who looked like he had been on the verge of tears.

"Boy. You had me scared."

"I should get an academy award for that." Dean said with a smirk.

"Most definitely."

"Now about getting Sammy out of hell?" Dean asked turning his eyes to Nick. Nick nodded. Nick was impressed with the Winchester. He had heard stories but he hadn't believed half of them. Looking into the borrowed eyes of Sam Winchester he knew that every story he had heard was true and probably then some. 

Getting Sam out of Hell was surprisingly easy. Nick the ghost locator/demon gatherer/ghost caller/weird guy that Dean wondered where exactly Bobby had met the guy, gathered the things that he had brought with him and performed the same ritual that Sam had performed two years ago to get Father Gregory to come to his crypt so they could release the soul and send it back home, Dean had always assumed home to God, but he wasn't sure. And now that he was in Sam's head he found that Sam did in fact believe that Father Gregory had been returned to God and he also found that Sam believed that their dad and mom were in heaven together. Dean made a quick mental note to ask Sam about that when he got back. 

'I'm making it sound like he's on vacation in the Bahamas.' Dean thought to himself wryly. He watched as the ghost caller or soul seeker, whatever he wanted to be called, called Sam's soul forth and in a matter of seconds Sam stood there, fuzzy and sort of there the way most ghosts were and he smiled at Dean.

"I knew that we could do it." Sam said with a smile. Dean nodded.

"Now I have to keep the magic going until Noah gets here." Nick said.

"Noah?" Dean asked.

"The guy that swapped your souls. I hope we can get Sam's soul tucked back safely and securely into his own body."

"Looks like you get to go back to being the short one Dean." Sam said with a smirk.

"Be happy to." Dean said with relief. Dean folded the long body onto the floor and sat and the soul of his brother sat in front of him and they just watched the each other. Nick kept up the ritual to keep Sam tethered to this time and place, and Bobby bustled around calling Noah and making sure that he was on his way and amidst all of the commotion the boys just sat there and watched each other. Neither felt the need to talk, they knew that there would be years and years for the conversations that were needed, but for right now, jus knowing that both of them were safe and sound and together, well as together as a disembodied soul and a soul in the wrong body could be. 

Noah arrived and all Dean remembered was being knocked out by some nasty tasting tea and when he woke up, he found himself stiff and very cold. He sat up and tried to stretch the kink out of his back.

"Sam?" he called hoarsely and was surprised to hear his own voice say the name. He heard Sam's groggy groan and Dean immediately stood despite his protesting muscles and went to his brother. He helped the bigger man sit up.

"Dean?" he asked.

"Yeah, dude, it's me. It looks like we got you corporeal again." Sam smirked. 

"I guess you did learn a little bit while being cooped up in my head."

"I guess I did." Bobby came in and saw the two of them.

"Did it work?" he asked gruffly.

"Yeah it did." Dean said with a smile. 

"Thank God. It'll be good to have you two normal again." Both brothers nodded. It was good to be back. 


	33. Moving Vehicle

Dean struggled to stand up, his body was still stiff from death, and Sam reached a hand out to help his older brother up and Dean looked at the proffered hand for a moment and contemplated swatting it away

Dean struggled to stand up, his body was still stiff from death, and Sam reached a hand out to help his older brother up and Dean looked at the proffered hand for a moment and contemplated swatting it away. Three weeks ago Dean would have pushed his little brother's hand away with a quip about how he was sore not an invalid and he could handle himself. But now that his brother had been inside his head and knew about all of his aches and pains and knew more about the inner workings of his mind than anyone on the face of the planet, there would be no more pretending that he wasn't hurt or stiff. Sam would be able to detect the pains now. Definitely no more hiding. The soul swap had ensured that. So, swallowing his pride, he took the hand his brother offered and allowed Sam's extra weight to pull him up onto his unsteady feet. Smiling Dean clapped his brother on the shoulder.

"Amazing what being dead and being frozen will do for ya. Now I know what a sack of peas feel like." Dean said with a smirk. Sam accepted the humor and his hazel eyes glittered with humor, and Sam's face fell into the smile from years before seeing Jessica burning to death on the ceiling, before being told his destiny involved becoming something he most certainly was not, before being told that he had died and that his brother had made a deal to save him at the cost of his own soul. It was definitely good to see that look on his brother's face. As a matter of fact it was a good thing to see his brother's face in front of him and not in the mirror. Dean had thought on more than one occasion that his haunted soul didn't belong in Sam's rich hazel eyes, and it didn't. Sam's soul made Sam's face lighter and happier. He was glad to see that soul radiating off of his little brother's actual body.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

"Better than okay. I've got everything I need, I got my brother, got my car, my soul firmly planted in my own body." He said the last with a smirk.

"You two idgets…come on let's get something into your stomachs." Bobby said.

"Pizza?" Dean asked. Bobby sighed.

"Didn't being in your brother's body teach you anything boy?"

"As a matter of fact it did. It taught me that he likes rabbit food." Bobby rolled his eyes and sighed and Sam kept right on smiling.

* * *

After dinner with Nick and Noah, Dean and Sam went upstairs to get ready for bed. Both had been too tired to shower, and they each stripped down to their boxers and got into their respective beds.

"So, Sam…" Sam didn't roll over onto his side like he wanted to. He knew now that eye contact during what Dean deemed a "chick flick moment" made Dean even more uncomfortable than the actual conversation. Instead, Sam readjusted in this bed clasping his hands over his stomach and waiting for his brother to continue.

After several attempts, a throat clear, and several lip wettings later Dean started over. "Sam, are you okay?"

"Okay how?"

"With everything that happened?"

"You are alive and out of the deal. I can't be happier. You of all people should know that."

"I do know that. But that wasn't exactly what I meant. Did they hurt you while you were in my stead?"

"You mean in hell?"

"Yeah." Dean said so softly that it was almost inaudible.

"He did a lot of talking." Sam shrugged. "Told me the same crap that every demon has been telling me. Except…." Sam paused and grinned a little. "They credit you with my turn for the good side."

"What?"

"Demons think that since you were the one to raise me and keep me "innocent" that you are responsible for me not wanting to lead their ridiculous demon army."

"Well, I don't know about that. I know I sure as hell did my fair share of trying to corrupt you." Sam chuckled.

"Yeah, that girly magazine when I was twelve."

"How else was I supposed to explain the birds and the bees to you?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe just straight up tell me."

"But wasn't the girly magazine so much more fun?" Sam got a good hearty chuckle out of that.

"Yeah, I suppose it was." Sam paused. "The whole thing with Jake was orchestrated. They knew that Cold Oak was close to a cross roads and they knew that you would offer yourself. They knew that. They also knew that it would break me and I would do almost anything to get you out of that deal, even if it meant leading their army."

"They didn't count on Bobby did they?"

"No, I spose they didn't."

"You think we are free of the demons?"

"No. I think we are going to be more of a target than before." Dean nodded. Sam heard his brother take a deep intake of breath.

"How are we going to do this?"

"Just like we always have."

"Sam."

"Yeah?" There was a long pause. Dean wanted to ask Sam if he felt the same way he did. During dinner he had felt like he didn't quite fit into his own skin anymore. Like he had grown too big for his Dean suit and it also felt like there was something of Sam left behind. It almost felt as if Sam had packed his bags hastily and left a sock on the floor of Dean's proverbial mind. He wanted to ask Sam about it, but he couldn't force the words out of his mouth. It was going way too far down the chick flick moment lane. Even though Sam had spent weeks inside his head seeing his pain and his joy, he still couldn't force himself to ask the question.

"Never mind." Dean said.

"No. Tell me Dean." Sam asked. He felt it too. There was something off. Like he was too big for his own body, like there was something missing but something gained as well. Spending those weeks inside his brother's head was enlightening. Sam had learned that his brother was scared of his emotions and feeling weak. Sam knew that. And now he also knew how to push. Gently. "Come on Dean…."

"I miss knowing what is going through your head." Dean blurted quite uncharacteristically. "It made things so much easier when I knew what your reaction would be without me having to look like an idiot."

"I miss knowing what is going on in your head too."

"I don't miss being in that gargantuan body of yours though. Hard to balance the thing." Sam burst out laughing. Dean sat up on an elbow and looked at his hysterical brother. "You okay Sam? Did I break something while I was in there?" Dean asked worriedly.

Sam coughed and tried to quiet the laughter that had subsided into giggles, and through those giggles he said, "You are talking about my body as if it were some sort of moving vehicle." Dean cocked his head to one side in a silent agreement.

"Well, really and truly it kinda was. Gets really good gas mileage too. Only need to feed it once or twice and it's good to go for the whole day." Sam burst out in laughter again. Dean smiled a little and enjoyed the sound of his brother's laugh. He hadn't heard it in a long time.

It took Sam a moment or two to regain his composure. He cleared his throat and let one last small chuckle come out before he said, "Well if my moving vehicle gets good gas mileage, than yours is jerky and needs to be feed multiple times a day. I would get up in the middle of the night and be hungry. How do you do that? And you would want the hard stuff, sugar and pizza, nothing simple like a carrot or some cereal. You are like the Impala, a jerky ride and constantly hungry."

"Hey now, don't you go talking smack about my baby."

"Talking smack?" Sam laughed. Dean shrugged.

"Late night television."

"Obviously." Sam looked down at his clasped hands for a moment. "So, Dean." He started.

"Yeah Sammy?"

"I'm really glad we had the opportunity to exchange lives for a couple of weeks."

"Me too Sammy. Me too."

"I always told you that I would die for you."

Dean paused and looked at his little brother through the dark and knew now that everything Sam said was true. "That you did Sammy. That you did." He said before turning over and falling asleep

**Author's Note: Okay. I think I'm finished. But all of you who have been reading, I hope this didn't disappoint. Did you want to see something at the end of the story that I missed? Review please and let me know if you think there is more of this story to tell. I love your comments and feedback. Thank you guys so much for reading! Stacey. **


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